


Candy Hearts

by themidnightrhapsody



Series: Candy Hearts [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Complete, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 82,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themidnightrhapsody/pseuds/themidnightrhapsody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like brutal murder and bad porn, the love of your life is burned into your retinas the first time you see her. There's no escaping her. For reals, sometimes all you can do is hold on tight and hope that when she kills you, you'll enjoy it. Larxiné; AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If She Hadn't Been So Good-Lookin'

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to mention that personality is a matter of perspective. In this, Naminé has this running inner commentary that may seem a bit dark for her – but she acts like, well, Naminé. I've never thought she was a particularly good or nice person; after all, she seems sweet and easily frightened, but she was willing to fuck up several lives just because she was lonely. In this, I'm both exploring that duality and allowing my inner Larxiné fangirl to come out and play.
> 
> Also, each chapter name is either a song title or song lyrics. Don't read too much into it; I just used them for fun and for effect. It's not a playlist or anything.
> 
> Dedicated to Chezhire8 at LJ.

It's like a fucking airport in here, all close and lines and shit. Except with airports, you have that thought, you're getting out soon. Here, the only good thing is the part where her mom's coming to pick us up at three, and I'll never have to look at her again. The noise is overpowering and the smells – fucking  _hell._  The smells are killing me to the point of zombiehood. Maybe Miss Perfume to my left will finally shut up if I eat her brain.

This was not supposed to happen.

I don't even know her fucking name. I just know she's the sweet daughter of some friend of my dad's, and he's all busy trying to get in her pants. The friend's, not Miss Perfume's, even though – well, with his tastes...

And he refused to let me drive myself here for the summer, so he knew I wouldn't have a getaway car. Fucking bastard. I bet he was planning this. And...

"I really want to see it, you know. It sounds so cute..."

...she's still talking.

"Hmm," I say. Wonder if she'll notice I replied.

"God, you're like a zombie."

It's so funny I'm about to burst my seams. I'd like to tell her I  _am_  a zombie, or at least crack open her skull and see if she  _has_  a brain in there, but I just smile and giggle a little. I hate my laugh. It's like a fucking waterfall. So I always dam it up. The damn giggle sounds just as bad, but at least it isn't so  _loud._

"Look, Olette-"

"Justine," she says, looking hurt. Ah, that's right – Olette's her mom. I feel bad for the woman. Or...wait, no, Olette's the chick Roxas liked for a month and a half in seventh grade. Where the hell is this coming from? I haven't spoken to Roxas in years. Not since he ran off with that transvestite hooker or whatever. Whatsername? Lila? Leila? That's right, Lea.

"Sorry. I was having a blonde moment," I tell her, hoping to high heaven the corners of my mouth are turned up like I ordered instead of down like they want to be.

"Oh, I have those all the time."

You don't say.

"There was this one time..."

...and there she goes again.

"Look, Justine," I say. I refuse to sigh. I  _refuse._  She still looks kinda hurt, and I feel like I'm fucking wasted or something, the way my cheeks feel from all this goddamn smiling. I'm showing teeth and everything. "I'm really not into chick flicks. Or movies. Or shopping. Or...all this girly stuff. In fact, I kinda  _hate_  it." After a moment, rather lamely, I add, "I'm sorry."

She gives me The Look people give when they think you're stupid, which she probably does. Kinda hypocritical, but hey, what the hell do I know? Maybe she's a physicist. She could have told me and I wouldn't know.

"What?"

Still with those priss lips, she says, "You  _are_  a girl."

"It's not my fault." That used to be my motto, back when I was a kid. There was this one girl, Kira, who wouldn't fucking leave me alone. Haha, you must have fought with a lawn mower, haha, you have chicken legs, haha, you're not growing boobs. Haha, it's not my fault, it's my genes. Haha, you're a bitch.

I used to have these fantasies, of ripping out all her pretty black hair and hanging her with it. I kinda disturb myself sometimes. Haha, you're a psycho.

"Well, you know, my mom  _said_  you were a bit of a tomboy, but-"

I cut her off. "This is ridiculous."

"Yeah, that's just what I was about to say!"

Fucking Justine. Why does she get pretty red hair when she's stuck in a perpetual blonde moment? Swear to god, she's so stupid.

I pull my wallet out of the pocket of my little white skirt Kairi gave to me. I hate being girly, but I love this little white skirt. It isn't a girl thing, it's a remembering-the-only-girl-I-ever-liked thing. Fucking cancer. I ever get a chance to meet that God people talk about, I'll kill him. Too bad he's not real; that might be great stress relief.

"Great minds think alike, I guess." My  _cheeks hurt._  "Hey, I hear there's a candy shop in this mall. We should try some of that new sea-salt ice cream."

"Aw, I can't. I'm watching my figure."

"Watching it do what? Shrink?" I think I have this vague memory of her as this really fat girl. Like three-fifty or something. But I thought that chick's name was Ellen, so maybe not. Still, Justine's about five-two and if she's more than a hundred pounds I'm a daisy.

She blinks those pretty blue eyes at me, all sad, and it's so unfair. How could  _this girl_  be so annoying? Hell, if she'd shut up for five seconds I might even find her sexy.

...Nah. Kairi had red hair and blue eyes. There can only be one sexy blue-eyed redhead in my life.

"Aww, you're so sweet." Is she  _hitting_  on me? Oh, no...I hope my dad hasn't been telling everyone I'm a lesbian again.  _Just because_  I'm not dating anyone.  _Just because_  I once said 'ew, boys are gross.' When I was ten.  _Just because_  he's so worried his flings will have problems with me – he makes up weird things to tell them.

"I'm really not," I assure her. "I'm just saying it like it is. You're thin already."

"I just don't want to get  _fat._  But, I mean, we could go across the street and sit down." She gestures to a place I can't possibly see, since  _I don't have x-ray vision._  "There's a new place. The food's good, and nothing on the menu is over two hundred calories."

I'd like to call bullshit, but instead I say, "Yes, I'd love to." Such a charmer, seriously. My  _goddamn cheeks hurt._  I need a reason to move my face. "It's kind of crowded in here."

No, really?

"Ah, this is nothing. Just wait until Saturday!"

"I'd rather not," I say dryly. It doesn't make her smile any smaller. Dammit.

"Well, let's go. I'm really craving a diet Coke."

Fucking hell. Does she ever stop yapping? Even the  _drink._  What I want to know is, how does she expect anyone to take her seriously?

I just keep that smile plastered on my face like costume makeup. Even when she grabs my arm and pulls me out of the mall. At least she's rescuing me, like a damn princess from a tower, and what the fuck? If I were in a tower, I wouldn't want  _Justine_  to rescue me – come to think of it, I wouldn't be in a tower. Or if I happened to be in one, I'd have a damn good reason for being there. And I wouldn't just sit there, I'd  _make_  someone rescue me. Someone nice and gullible, with a strong heart. Like Sora. Cousin Sora with his charms and his crush on  _my_  girl. Except she wasn't mine, I guess, and she died before I could really tell her how I...y'know.  _Feel,_  or whatever.

Oh god, what the hell. Where is this  _coming from?_

I'm a fucking lunatic. Swear to god.

"I could go for one myself," I tell her. Yeah. If I wanted to poison myself. I remember Grandma saying how soda's bad for you, diet soda even more so. I don't mention this, because it might be funny to see Justine drop dead.

Fucking Justine.

She's still pulling me, now across the street, and I'm thinking – what am I still  _doing_  here? I'm twenty-two. Maybe I don't have a car, but I could find a way to get the hell away from this chick. But I figure my dad's practically  _paying_  me to entertain his girl's daughter, I might as well give him his money's worth. I have to have  _somewhere_  to stay while I'm here.

"Come on," she says. I look at the restaurant and try not to vomit. Goddamn place looks like a candy heart threw up all over the walls. There are cupcake chairs and tables shaped like flowers. Pink. Everywhere. I know this pink, and it isn't Kairi pink. It's  _his_  pink. I'm dying.

My cheeks fucking hurt.

"Table for two," I hear her say, but it's sort of in my peripheral mind-vision, because mostly I'm looking around and trying not to explode. I bet they'd just tack my heart on the wall.

"Oh," says a  _very_  familiar voice, and it's official: I've died. This has to be hell. There's no fucking way this all could be happening on Earth.

"Ooooh, hey, Marluxia!"

Fucking  _Justine._

"I haven't seen you in a while," he says, but he's looking at me. Justine's looking at me too, looking put out. Aww, the poor baby got ignored. Maybe if she'd shut her trap he might sleep with her. If she didn't make him keep his eyes open. Nah. He's not into redheads anyway.

"Yeah...I moved away," I tell him. "I'm in Twilight Town now. I've...been drawing."

Marluxia was like...my best friend, way back when. Roxas was there too, but when I met Marluxia...BAM. The whole world stood still. He wasn't very nice to me, but that was part of the appeal. Nice is for heroes. Nice is for girls like  _Kairi._  I don't let on, but nice has never been attractive to me. I don't let on, but any relationship I have won't be pink and fluffy. It will be fucking _black and blue._

My friend Marluxia. I always talked about him.  _Today my friend Marluxia taught me about roses. Today my friend Marluxia stole my lunch. Today my friend Marluxia kissed me..._

Yeah, after that we weren't friends. Friends don't let friends lose their virginity out of curiosity, which is what we both did. After that he was a complete asshole to me and I pretended to be scared of him so he'd leave me the fuck alone. Didn't really work, because I guess on some level we still were...fond...of each other. Whatever. He was an asshole naturally, anyway, and he probably missed pushing me around.

My friend Marluxia is standing in front of me, smiling like none of this ever happened.

"I see."

Fucking bastard. "This place has  _got_  to be yours." Real men have pink fetishes. Trust me, I know.

"I've also done well for myself. Oh, let me introduce you to my best friend." Ouch. He signals some pretty blonde girl. The way he looks at her...nobody else could notice, but I  _know_  him. What is it with him and blondes?

She's not wearing a uniform, so I can only assume she's mooching. She's got  _curves,_  and a pretty little dress, too, all up on her thighs. She's got half a sucker hanging out of her mouth and her bright eyes are  _intelligent._  She's got a necklace on and it looks like some kind of knife or something, and that sexy little halfway smirk around the lollipop stick...

Well, okay, she's attractive. Enough to make me consider her lips, and oh, how pretty they are. I'm pretty sure my legs are starting to shake,  _goddamn._

"Larxene, this is Naminé. I've told you about her."

"Yes, yes, good to meet you," she says. It's disingenuous and ooh, is that her real tone of voice? She barely glances at me, but at my company. Her eyes turn cold. "Oh. Hello,  _Justine."_  Justine looks distinctly panicked. Her hands dart to her throat. Her eyes dart to the door.

Larxene laughs. It's this high-pitched, sweetie-pie laugh, but it's still mocking, I can tell. She steps closer and I see...is that a  _knife_  tucked into that scrunched-up stocking on her left leg? It  _is._

Swear to god, I've just met the love of my life.


	2. I Might Have Seen the Train

It's raining again.

Traverse Town would be famous for its rain, if people knew about it. I swear, all the fucking time...it lets up for an hour or so and then BAM. Today it's so bad the gutters are sludging like arteries. I don't know what's worse – watching the leaves and shit float down the streets like little fat globules or watching the girl in the booth across from me.

Fucking Justine.

I haven't seen Marluxia since he seated us. I don't know why  _he_  seated us, since he owns the place – I think, anyway – but I'd thought, you know, he'd at least say more than hello and here's a fucking  _menu._  Maybe he hates me now. Probably. I'm easy to hate.

I'm shaking and I can barely speak. Something about this place...I don't know, but it  _sucks._  It just sucks. I know I probably look like I'm scared or something, because Justine isn't really saying much, just looking at me.  _Hallelujah._  An entire two minutes. It's gotta be a  _record._

Still, the price is too high. I wish I had more control over my own body.

I remember when Marluxia and I pulled off that 'heist.'  _He_  said my body and my voice were perfect – I always look scared and fragile, even though I'm not scared and it's not like I'll break if someone hits me. Maybe my nose. But that's not the point.

It's  _this._  This...shaking thing. I lose my voice or I sound like I'm about to cry, and my hands find my mouth whether I want it or not. I remember, I stood out there for a whole eleven minutes, scared of the men who chased me.  _Bah._  Marluxia was in the back jacking all their snowglobes. I don't even remember why we did that. Stupid little memory globes...I think we were going to put photoshopped pictures in them and leave them for people to find. Like little storybooks.

We were stupid kids.

The poor shopkeepers didn't know anything.

We were still stupid kids.

"I'm Olette, and I'll be your server this-"

"Well, fuck me sideways," I say, before I can stop myself. Whoops. Gotta remember to change the filter soon. You just don't  _say_  stuff like that in situations like this.

To her credit, she doesn't even look a bit pained. "Naminé?"

"I...yes." Annnd, here we go again. I'm not quiet because I have nothing to say; I'm quiet because my voice is so ridiculous. Even my voice is like a waterfall, all shaky and wet and shiny. I sometimes forget what I'm saying, too, so I'll slow down my sentences and I sound like I'm trying not to cry.

"Aww, how've you been?"

True story: Olette comes from Twilight Town. She was a real hot topic for a while – nobody ever comes to Traverse Town, and you never meet anyone  _from_  Traverse Town. They lovingly call this place the World that Never Was, and its denizens, Nobodies. I ever get the chance to meet the guy who made that up, I'll kill him.

Well. Maybe just glare in an annoyed fashion. I'm not really the murdering type, even though sometimes I'd like to be. With my luck, I'll look hurt anyway. I  _hate_  my body.

Hey, maybe I  _am_  scared of everything. It would explain why I always look ten times smaller than I really am. It would also explain the curling posture and the voice and the shaking.

But wait. It wouldn't explain the crazy.

Never mind.

"I'm doing well," I tell her, lifting my voice a little. When I'm like shouting, there's less water in my voice. "And you?"

I don't even want to talk to her. I never liked her. She spent too much time with my Roxas. Plus, she's one of those cute girls with bracelets and beads. I never saw the attraction, and it was hell trying to fit in. Now it's just hell trying to make people go away. I'm not intimidating.

In fact, I'm kind of pathetic.

"Just...trying to get by," she admits, fiddling with the pen in her hand. "Going to school, working, taking care of my baby cousin. This is the best job I've had in a while – Marluxia's been an absolute  _godsend."_

...What the hell is he  _feeding_  these poor people? Crack? Last time we saw each other, people would only use 'god' and 'Marluxia' in the same sentence if that sentence was  _thank god he's eighteen now – we can try him as an adult._

Whatever. It's not my problem.

"Speaking of jobs," she says quickly. She looks a bit embarrassed. Probably because she was chatting instead of taking our orders – not that I'm actually hungry, but whatever. "Is there anything I can get for you right off the bat?"

"No thank you...just water."

Justine looks at me like I'm stupid again. Oh, yeah – I just made fun of her for 'watching her figure.' Not that she  _knew_  I was making fun of her, but the fact remains, and if there's one thing I can't stand, it's making self-conscious girls self-conscious. Shit. "I mean, I'm still deciding."

She looks so relieved she could pass out. I should be nominated for fucking  _sainthood._

Olette turns, completely unaffected by the subliminal exchange. "And for you, Justine?" Is it just my imagination, or does Olette's smile look very  _fixed_  now? Sweet. I guess nobody likes Justine very much. That's good. I was feeling bad. Now I know I'm not hallucinating – she really is just revolting.

I kinda feel the world breathing and I know I won't be eating tonight. I'll feel it all sliding through my body like a fat, slimy nightcrawler and the goddamn  _earth breaths_  will make me throw up. And...fuck, Justine just ordered some kind of  _spaghetti._  Two hundred calories, my ass. Now I'm thinking about worms and she's going to eat spaghetti. Fucking hell.

The smells. They'll kill me. This Justine will be the end of me, swear to god. Seeing my dad happy with her mother is  _not worth this._  But I probably won't say anything, because it'll just sound stupid. _Hey, Dad, your girlfriend's daughter makes me sick, so can you ditch the whole idea?_  Yeah,  _that'll_ go down real well. And I really  _do_  want to see him happy...

Fucking Justine. She's just as irritating today as she was last time we met – though, I didn't know her name then, and I can't even remember what she looked like, unless she really did look like what I don't think she did anymore. Whoa, I just confused  _myself._

"You know," she says once Olette's gone to get our drinks. She leans over the table and lowers her voice. "The food here is heavenly. I hear everything on the menu comes straight from Marluxia's head. He's so good with his hands." I hope she chokes on that goddamn double entendre.

But I smile anyway. "I'm not surprised. He's a plant person at heart-" yeah, if he had one. "-and he cooks with the stuff he grows. At least...that's how he used to do it. He always tried to feed me, but I'm sure he put arsenic in it or something. So I've never actually tasted anything of his."

She frowns. "Did you hate him or something?"

I cover my mouth when I laugh, so the waterfall doesn't escape. That would be embarrassing. And I  _know_  she'd never forget it. "No, of course not. He was my best friend."

"But why would he want to poison his best friend?"

"You obviously don't know Marluxia as well as you'd  _like_  to," says someone to my left. Ooh, goodie. I'm going to be dreaming about her voice for  _weeks._  She still looks sexy and dangerous, which is nice, because I hate it when I hallucinate.

Justine goes pale. This chick is stealing my heart, swear to god.

"I suppose, though we've already met formally, I should say it's nice to meet you," I tell Larxene.

"Why?"

"Because..." I glance at my  _other_  companion, who seems to be choking on something. "I didn't say much?"

Fuck it. My voice is so retarded. Hopefully Marluxia told her about my voice when he told her about  _me,_  because if he didn't then she probably thinks I'm scared of her. Or sad. Which I'm not.

Well, okay. I  _am_  scared of her. But only because she's made my little asexual heart peek out of the corner, and I've spent all this time trying to convince my dad I'm  _not_  a lesbian. I'm afraid of how he'll laugh at me and say  _told you so._  Fucker's less mature than I am. And, I'm not a lesbian. I mean, I don't know her, and I probably don't even like her.

She's just, y'know, the love of my life.

"There wasn't time." She plops down next to me and every little proton in my body is aware of her. What is she, a walking electric current? "And how is...this girl today?"

Ooh, it's a baby voice. She knows how to tease. Fantastic. Justine hides behind her pretty red hair. "I'm Justine. You just said my name a little while ago."

"Whatever." Larxene waves her hand in front of her face. I'm shaking more now. I want to cling to her or something, what the fuck. Maybe she's an electron and I'm a proton and we're attracted to each other and we'll...I dunno, have neutron babies or something.

What. The. Hell. Everybody knows neutrons don't have a charge, and any kid of ours would be charged. With sexual energy. Because...oh. Larxene's talking again. I can't miss anything she says. To do so would be a tragedy and a crime  _against_  passion.

"I haven't forgotten that you owe me a-"

"I remember," says Justine hastily. Out of the three of us, she's the neutron. She's got bland down to a T, which totally removes that, which leaves neurons, and she doesn't have any.

 _Where_  is this shit  _coming from?_  I'm a fucking  _scatterbrain,_  swear to god.

No more atom talk. Please. I hate science anyway.

"So, Naminé, what's your story," Larxene asks abruptly, sounding wonderfully disinterested. This sudden attention is disturbing. Do I care? No, not really. Some of my favorite things are disturbing. If anyone would care to ask, they might actually find  _me_  disturbing.

My hand shakes when I go to push my hair behind my ear. "Um...well, I..." I  _can't look at her._  I turn my face downward – I know it looks like I'm getting shy, but...well, if I keep looking at her, I'll probably throw myself at her.

That would be bad.

"I run a photography studio, called Sweet Memories, but I don't take photographs. I got into it because I draw memories – some people come in for portraits, or for illustrations. Others come in and describe scenes, and I draw them. It...was Marluxia's idea, a long time ago. I just didn't have the funds until I went to Twilight Town."

"Oh, I didn't know you were a draw-er," Justine says brightly. I think she must be trying to ignore Goddess Mountain next to me. It's kind of sad.

"How do you spell that," Larxene asks sweetly.

The only response is an embarrassed expression.

I can see Olette approaching the table. I realize this is the  _most_  casual female company I've had since...high school. I'm surprised I haven't run screaming yet. But one look at Larxene and I'm not surprised anymore, because  _goddamn._

My cheeks don't even hurt anymore, because I don't have to  _smile_  at her to placate her.

And speaking of The Goddess, she's getting up to go.  _No! Don't leave me!_  Before I can stop myself, I say, "Wait. I..." I look down and make a show of looking through my wallet, but it's a cover for just looking away from her pretty face.

"Hmm?"

"Here's my card," I tell her, handing it over. Where is this coming from? "I don't know if I'll be in town much longer, so...if you're ever in the neighborhood..."

What? Come over and I'll draw you? I'll give you tea?  _We'll make sweet memories all night?_  I know I'll be here for about two months anyway...I'm a nutcase, apparently.

"I'll be sure to remember that," she says, giving me what I can only describe as a  _naughty_  grin. When she leans over to take my card, I can pretty much see down her black shirt – V-neck, I think they're called, but I shop as infrequently as possible, so maybe I'm just delusional. The knife charm on the cord around her neck seems to be fairly sharp, because there's a faint scratch between her collarbones.

Mm.


	3. Pictures of You

When it's just my dad and me, I have a lot of time to think. I mean, I think all the time – I'm not _braindead,_  and everybody thinks all the time, right? Right. Everybody thinks all the time. I just hate doing it, especially here.

It's been about six years since 'just my dad and me' became more than an occasion. Sometimes I guess I feel kinda bad about driving away all his girlfriends, because I'm barely in his life anymore. I didn't even really like my mom anyway, and I guess I do want him to be...happy. I'm just so picky. I mean, my dad's a rich, sensitive, hopeless romantic. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and  _they all know that._  If they want the Naminé Stamp of Approval, they have to pass rigorous tests, and so far, everybody's failed.

I guess I could just keep out of it, but then someone would come along and take advantage of him. How do I know? It already happened. My mom fucked him over, and after a while, she left me to rot. I'm just lucky my dad cared so much about me.

I hate thinking like this, here, because I have to think about how I hate seeing my dad so unhappy. I know  _why_  he's unhappy, and I know it's because he cares more about my happiness than his own. I'm really a selfish bitch, I guess. I mean, there was that girl who was about five years older than me,  _tops –_  she had to go. Then there was that slut with the secret boyfriend...I wouldn't allow her to break his heart. Then there was whatsername, who  _definitely_  just wanted his money. I can smell a gold-digging whore from a mile away.

But what about this newest one, Lisa? I couldn't see anything  _too_  wrong with her (other than her revolting daughter, but Justine's old enough to know better). He was excited when he asked me what I thought of her. One word from me, though, and she was off the list.

Why does he do this to himself? I have way too much  _power_  over him. Sometimes I think he's afraid to start another relationship – or maybe he's afraid of being happy. That's probably closer to the truth. Most people thrive on being miserable, one way or another. It's like...safe, or something. Goddamn retards.

Haha, you're a bitch.

Sometimes, I really fucking hate myself.

"Naminé, honey, can you come down here for a second?" That's his voice. I'm reluctant to leave my little attic bedroom – everything's white, and I find that incredibly calming – but I've already caused enough grief. Also, I think I might be hungry, because my head's hurting. If I'm not hungry, that means I'm stupid enough to hurt myself thinking, and I don't particularly want to  _entertain_  that idea.

"Coming," I call, but I know he can't hear me. My voice is naturally soft. This is why I'm not a singer – well, that and I can't carry a tune for shit. When I was in girls' choir, they told me to  _lip synch._  Talk about killing a kid's self-esteem.

When I'm finally in the kitchen, after going down a million and one stairs, I put on a smile for him. It's not the smile I used on Justine, but it's just as fake. Goddamn. Do I even  _have_  a real smile? I don't remember ever  _using_  it...

Oh. My. God.

" _Roxas?"_

I pinch myself.

It doesn't work.

I do it again, just in case.

It still doesn't work.

"I just realized...I have, something to do. It's very important. Like, super important. And I won't be back for a week, so-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Naminé," says my dad. I notice some redhead sort of loitering in the doorway – I vaguely recognize the figure as the transvestite hooker (or whatever, most of my memories of himher are sort of fuzzy because I absolutely refuse to revisit them), or I'd offer to throw the hobo out. It's skinny enough to be a hobo. And that dress has  _definitely_  seen better days.

But now that I think about it, Roxas probably did the damage himself. He was never the most delicate of people. I remember Yuffie telling Kairi Roxas was kind of a rough lover, too.  _How_  she knew that, I don't care to know...oh, haha, you're a spacecase, Naminé.

"-for a week or two." Fucking hell. I wasn't paying attention, but I'm pretty sure Roxas said something along the lines of "we'll be staying for a couple of weeks," and because my dad adores Roxas, he'll probably make them stay here. Roxas is my eighth cousin thrice removed or something wacky like that, but his mom was really close to my dad, until she kicked the bucket. Then he just sorta hung out at our house until  _Lea_  here swept him away like a fucking  _air hose._

That was six years ago. Stupid hobo. Roxas was  _my_  best friend.  _Mine._ _  
_

"That's nice," I say absently, until I realize _what the hell I've just said._  Swear to god, I'm nucking futs. I need to wake up or something, goddamn.

"So, I thought we might go to the mall-"

Roxas, what has heshe  _done_  to you? Can you get any  _gayer?_  You were my partner-in-antisocialism! You hated malls too!  _What is this world coming to!_

"-because the airline fucked up and lost our baggage."

Okay. This is better. Everybody knows you can only find clothes at the mall – in fact, you can pretty much only find  _anything_  at the mall. Traverse Town has a mall, three restaurants, a laundromat, and a grocery store. Fucking smallest town  _ever._

"Hey! Language," my dad says.

"Sorry, Mr. Whitfield."

Sorry, my ass. Roxas never apologizes sincerely. I mean, he definitely could have changed like every human on the planet, but by the way his Lea's smirking over there, I doubt it. I don't think my dad's buying it either, but if he was expecting a sincere apology, he was wasting his time.

By the way his eyes seem to light up almost, Roxas  _himself_  seems to have lightened up over the years. I don't really know how I feel about that, but the nice thing is that I don't have to feel _anything_  about it. I hate feeling anyway. It's totally bogus.

"I'll make up the guest room while you and Lea resupply." Dad turns to me, and if he wasn't my dad, I'd slap him for what I know is coming next. "Why don't you take them to the mall? You were there on Saturday, so you should know the new layout."

"Dad, you know you're hopeless with sheets," I say desperately. I wish I could slap  _Roxas_  for just sitting there like a dead goose or something else equally dead instead of backing me up like he should want.

True story: I'm the reason Roxas left.

True story: I really am a bitch.

True story: my dad doesn't know this.

"What's wrong with you, Naminé? You seem so..."

Poor Dad. "You know what...I just have a headache. Let me get some Aspirin and we'll get out of your hair."

I really  _should_  be nominated for sainthood. Yeah, I've caused enough grief, blah-blah-blah, but he doesn't know the half of it. I'm doing this out of whatever goodness might be left in my cold, dead, bogus heart.

True story: I wasn't always like this. The summer after Kairi died, Riku dropped off the face of the earth and Sora went to find him. He was supposed to be gone for a week at most, but I haven't seen him since. I tried to talk to my mom about how I was...y'know,  _feeling,_  but she told me to can it, because she was packing. To ditch my dad. Within two weeks, my entire life completely crumbled, and that's when I decided feeling was totally ridiculous. But before all that, I was a nice person. I think.

Maybe I'm only fooling myself. Definitely. Sora would have stayed, if I was worth staying for.

Lea glares at me like I'm the fucking antichrist. Well, guess what, cupcake? Now that you're back, I remember what you did for me. Have you told Roxas? Hmm? Or is it one of your many dirty little secrets?

Well, I don't know if heshe has any dirty little secrets, but whatever. Heshe's the type to have them anyway, and it's the  _principle of the thing –_  what. Where is this even coming from?

I don't meet Roxas' eyes when I gesture to him, but that's nothing new. Even before Lea stole him (read: I drove him off), I never really looked him in the eye. I never look  _anyone_  in the eye. I know it adds to the delicate princess-in-a-tower look, but  _that_  part, I can't help. Dunno why. Probably because of that pathetic streak in me. Whoo.

I actually do feel kinda bad for telling him he'd never be as good as Sora, now that I think about it. I actually do feel kinda bad for telling him if it would get Sora back, I'd make him disappear. I do feel bad. Even if I meant it. Even if it was true. That kind of truth doesn't need to be spoken – and I was angry at Sora for leaving me with Kairi's memory. Roxas was only trying to be someone he thought I needed – someone he just wasn't.

Dude, I'm like...fucking scattered. I spaced out  _way_  too long this time. Even my dad's looking at me like I'm touched or something. Whoops.

"We going, or what?" Roxas doesn't sound happy. Well, that makes two of us. Possibly three. I dunno if Lea really cares one way or another, or if the glares are just a standing-up-for-Roxas thing, but whatever.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry." For less than I'm willing to admit, though. "Dad, can we take your car?"

True story: our closest neighbors live a mile away from us. I  _refuse_  to walk three miles  _to the mall._

"Sure, honey."

I fucking hate this. Everything seems so...blah. Like the entire world just fractured or something. But I can feel it breathing again. I hate it when the earth breathes. I hate  _everything._  I have no idea why this is coming on now, but whatever. It's not like I ever say anything anyway, because  _sorry, I hate you because you're human and you're stifling the earth and you smell like people_  doesn't go over very well. Doesn't matter  _who_  you are, that never goes over well.

I scoop the keys out of the bowl and head out the door. I hope Roxas and Lea are following me, because I'm not going in again. After just a couple of moments, Lea slides into the backseat and Roxas drops into the...passenger's seat. Odd. I figured, since he pretty much told me he hates me...

I start the car.

Once we're out of the driveway, Roxas says, "We have an issue, Naminé."

Ya  _think?_

"I know we do," I say softly. I have no idea how to approach this, but I should probably use as much tact as possible –

"I can't sincerely apologize. I feel bad about what I said, but at the time, it was the truth."

– or, I could just blurt out the  _worst possible thing ever._  Dammit, I forgot to brush up on my communication skills before my 'vacation.'

After a single quiet moment which seems to last a  _hella_  long time, Roxas shrugs. "I appreciate the honesty. You're still a bitch, but whatever. I knew that going in."

Aww, Roxie! You're so sweet. My heart throbs in gratitude. Or something.

In a softer, more natural tone, he adds, "So...we cool?"

Okay, I think I'm in the Twilight Zone. Roxas always held grudges like lifelines. Maybe Lea's changed him. Or maybe he actually missed me. I think what stings the most is that I didn't miss him. Until I came back here, I barely even thought about him.

Ha. Ask and ye shall receive, right? I don't know where that comes from, and it barely even fits, so maybe that's a terrible expression. It sounds churchy anyway, and churches give me the creeps. I mean, they're darkish and cold and filled with  _people._  Church people aren't bad,  _per se,_ but...fucking hell. They think they're drinking blood and eating flesh. I don't see why anybody would want to eat another human, even a perfect one.

But still. "Yeah. It's...good to see you again, Roxas."

Little white lies really do hurt, but this one won't, because it's half true anyway. It's not particularly good to see him, but I think it could be, if he's still the crazy motherfucker he used to be.

"And you, Lea," I say suddenly, looking at himher through the rear view mirror. "How's that right shoulder?"

The venom in that glare ought to be bottled and given to serial killers.


	4. Just Nod If You Can Hear Me

Normally, when you talk to people who dress as the other gender, you call them by their preferred gender, but I never know whether Lea's preference is totally female. It's  _maddening._  And the worst part about it is...

I can't ask.

Just before Lea whisked Roxas away to Imperial City or wherever the fuck they went, heshe took off that stupid skirt and went nuts at Marluxia. In that moment, heshe had this completely male persona – Axel, was the name Marluxia heard, and it was implied that he  _was_  completely male. Sometimes I think it was just a dream, because usually it's more vivid than a regular memory. There are times I decide to forget it completely, and I just sort of parted ways with Marluxia.

I don't think Lea wants Roxas to know.  _I_  wouldn't want Roxas to know, if it was the other way around. Roxas, for some reason, puts a huge emphasis on friendship. It's fucking weird, because he never shows it, and he's a total asshole to pretty much everyone – purposely or not –, but he'd be upset if he knew Lea was the knife through the rope binding me to Marluxia. He's big on friendship, but he doesn't understand it very well.

Marluxia got the message, I guess, but 'Axel' came out of the thing with a dislocated shoulder. 'He' swore me to secrecy, and I never saw Axel  _or_  Lea again. I was never sure whether to be grateful for Axel's help or not; on the one hand, I was  _free._  On the other hand, I was  _lost._  Sure, he'd ended up hitting me, during that gigantic argument – but my life, after the Mom/Riku/Sora/Kairi fiasco, had revolved around Marluxia in one form or another. First it was our friendship, then it was our enmity. I may have hated him, but I needed him, and 'Axel' made it impossible for me to have what I needed.

I don't even know why Lea decided to do that. We'd never been close. Or even friends. I think heshe had a score to settle with Marluxia – it had nothing to do with me, personally. What I'll never tell anyone is that I  _liked_  it when he hit me. It was the first  _and only_  time I'd been aroused by something outside of major foreplay.

Fucking hell. Why did I ask Lea about the goddamn shoulder? I'm such an idiot.

It doesn't matter anyway, I guess. It's not like Roxas asked any questions, so maybe he already knows. Plus, it would be my duty as a kind, caring friend to ask about an injury that's, you know, pretty much my fault. That I'm not kind, or caring, is entirely beside the point.

"Look, just  _pick_  something," Roxas is saying. I swear, Lea's the worst shopping partner  _ever._  And it's not even that heshe window-shops; it's hisher figure and...quirks, I guess. Those hips do not even belong on a  _woman_  that thin, and the weirdest thing is that they're natural. Then there's the fact that heshe can only wear one hundred percent cotton...or leather. Fucking weirdo.

"I'm  _trying,"_  Lea replies. Heshe is  _really agitated,_  I can tell. "But I hate being itchy. And since I have to share a room with you, I'm really thinking of  _your_  well-being. We all know how you get when you can't sleep, and you can never sleep when  _I'm_  uncomfortable. I'm trying to be your _caring, considerate_  partner-"

"Okay, okay." Aww, Roxas is  _grumbling._  How cute. I'm about to vomit. Swear to god, these two are a love story gone bizarre. If I'm ever stuck in a relationship like that, I hope someone  _shoots_  me.

It's kinda funny that Lea's dragged us into a women's clothing store and is looking at pants. I mean, it makes sense; no self-respecting girl wears skirts all the time (I'm wearing one, but only because I can't be bothered to unpack my big suitcase and I only had Kairi skirts in my little one), and Lea's hips are too big to wear guy pants even if heshe felt like it. It's funny anyway. Dunno why. I guess it's because I'm easily amused and I'm still  _totally weirded out_  by the freakishness of this  _entire day._  In fact, this entire  _week._

I'm seriously regretting my decision to accept that commission. Fucking bizarre thing anyway – an entire life done in sketches, based on photos, except...this chick wants me to draw her out of the picture and draw someone else in. I figured I should leave Twilight Town to work on it, but this is too goddamn crazy.

It's funny how I'm regretting that decision, but I've never really regretted any important decisions. Maybe I only  _think_  I'm regretting this. Maybe I don't actually know  _how_  to regret. Hey, maybe I'm a sociopath and I just don't know it.

...Nah. That doesn't even make sense. Where is this shit coming from, anyway? I don't think like this when I'm home in Twilight Town.

My head still hurts. I totally forgot about the Aspirin. I know what's coming, now, but no matter how much warning I give myself, it always bowls me over like a fucking freighter.

Sometimes, when I stand still, I can feel the earth breathing through me. I can see it moving and pulsing, and it runs through me like air or water or both, like I'm drowning. In these moments, I can't eat or drink. I can barely think or breathe, but I have to do all those things. So I sorta pretend it away. Sometimes it works. Mostly it only annoys me. But annoyance is so much easier to deal with than fear, so I win.

Fucking delusions. Trying to get the best of me. They should know better.

These headaches always come before that feeling.

"Guys, I'm...a little dizzy," I say. I grab my head, just for the effect. I hate playing sick, I really do, but it's better than the alternative. "I'll be out there, on that bench. Just find me when you're done, all right?" I give them my Reassuring Smile, perfected over years of practice. I'm fine, don't worry. It's kind of entertaining, when you think about it, because people totally buy it. Apparently, I'm a perfect liar.

It isn't something to be proud of. I'm proud anyway, dammit. I have to have  _some_  kind of talent, right?  _Right?_

Right.

"No worries. Go get water or something," Roxas says absently.

"Or better yet, go get  _food,"_  Lea says. "You're all bones."

Fucking "Hypocrite."

"Hey. Metabolism from Hell. I'm gonna die young when I get old."

It's sad that I totally understood that.

I let out that damn giggle. Seriously, they should rip out my voice box. Then, I wouldn't have to worry about waterfalls. I also wouldn't have to lie.

Meh. Whatever.

I wander off, and hope they don't stay in there too long. The mall smells like  _human._  I'm not surprised, but I'm still annoyed. The smells are too smelly, the noises are too noisy, the colors are too colorful, and the world is too breathy. Also, people are just douchebags, generally, and I hate them.

Case in point: that group of teenagers by the potted plants. Can they get any louder? And I don't even mean  _volume._  Their clothes are loud, their mannerisms are loud. They just...they're trying too hard. The attention they're receiving is the wrong kind.  _I hate them._

I wonder if the smile on my face is vapid or not. Sometimes my face does things without my permission – like flinching, frowning, and pouting.

I think I can hear music. Yeah – something's playing just around the corner. Roxas and Lea can go fuck themselves; music is better than talking, and I kinda like the sound of this.

I peek around the corner and feel my eyes go wide.  _Whoa._  What the hell? Now this, I did not expect. Not that I really expected anything of him, but still. Wow. Demyx – fish boy – is one  _hell_  of a musician.

Play that funky music, white boy.

I don't know what the fuck that instrument is, but the sound is pretty cool. I'm not really comfortable or anything, but like I said, the sound of music is better than the sound of talking. It makes the hills come alive, and all that good stuff. I lean my head against the wall. I'll have to scrub my cheek and wash my hair as soon as I get home, but for now, I need the support. I'd really rather be lying down, but I'd also rather eat my own liver than lie down  _here._

I hate malls. I really do. Roxas is an evil bitch for bringing me here, and my dad – the conspirator – is a fucking traitor. He  _totally_  deserves to be miserable after all.

Demyx finishes his song and looks up hopefully. I don't know why people aren't throwing money at him – or just throwing themselves at him, for that matter. He's turned out pretty sexy, he's caressing an instrument which bears a disturbing resemblance to a dick, and his music was awesome. I guess I'm no better – in my defense, I'm pretty sure if I move, the world will surge into me like a tsunami or something.

Yeah, I know, that's a weak defense. I don't have to explain myself to...myself. Fucking hell, will my brain never  _shut up?_

"Oh," he says softly. I look over and he's looking at me. "I feel like I should recognize you."

"My name is Naminé. You and I aced a history project together." My voice is...surprise surprise, shaking. Now, this shakiness is a little easier to bear; the world. The world is making me weak. I'm losing breath. It's still annoying.

"Oh...oh, yeah! I remember you. We did that film with the headless Barbies."

True story: our teacher laughed really hard, and gave us an A. I don't think we deserved it.

"Yes...I didn't know you were a musician."

"I have many hidden talents," he tells me. Fucking weirdo.

I nod and close my eyes. Goddamn  _talking_  again. "Will you play again?"

"Anything for the lady." I can hear him shift and I'm sure he's smiling like in my imagination. My imagination's pretty kickass; if I don't want to remember something, it's just scribbles in my head. Like with Justine, how I can't really remember what she looked like before; I don't  _want_  to remember. On the flipside, I can remember what everything looks like, down to the last detail, if I think hard enough. Sometimes, like now, it takes almost no thinking to bring up a memory.

The memory of his smile. It really is a nice smile, even if it usually freaked me the hell out in school. That smile usually meant someone was going to find a nasty surprise, and half the time, it was me. I don't think anybody liked me very much...except Marluxia, for a while. And Kairi...

Bleh. Demyx's music is kinda soothing. I should pay him a million dollars. I'd own him, and I'd make him live with me and cater to all my needs. That is to say, I'd give him a room and make him play all the time. I'd feed him, I swear.

 _Where_  is this  _coming from?_

Swear to god, I'm a psycho.

"So...the years haven't been particularly kind to you," he says. He's still playing. I kind of want to hit him – I don't know if it's because his voice is interrupting the music, or because that was an incredibly rude observation, but I think it's the first. I already know I look like shit.

"Well, you must have stolen my kindness, then," I tell him. Sincerely? I dunno. He's much, much better looking than when we did that project, but I wouldn't say he's a  _god_  or anything. Not like Larxene...

Fuck. I really was doing well. Not thinking about her, barely thinking about Marluxia. The thing is, I tend to obsess over things, especially mysteries or things I like. I'll subconsciously pick a subject and my brain will turn it over, unwrap it, tack it up on the wall, and it'll always be there. I'll always see it. That's when obsession starts. Nobody really knows this about me, because I don't talk about it and I'm usually pretty good about thinking before I speak.

But if I'm not careful, Larxene will become an obsession. Why? Because she's a  _goddess._  Thirty seconds in, I was ready to worship her. I still am, really. It's really stupid, but so am I, I guess, when you bring it down to brass tacks. I'm not stupid about school stuff, but I'm stupid about life stuff. You'd think, being an observer, I'd have a better handle on things, but that's just it. I'm socially retarded.

"That's nice of you," he says. "What have you been up to lately, anyway? After high school, you bailed and nobody heard from you again. Your dad just clammed up when we asked. Some people thought you died, or got committed."

I take a deep breath and tie myself to his music, so I can concentrate on him and not on the fucking earth breaths. I'm really getting sick of this, seriously. "I moved to Twilight Town. Just after high school, my mom had this...fit of guilt, or something, and sent me quite a large amount of money." I don't bother to hide the part about my mom; this is a small town. Everybody knows what she did to us.

Plus, I couldn't care less if anybody knows. People are stupid, and so don't fully comprehend each other's business like they think they do.

"I opened a photography studio, and hired a couple of photographers," I offer. "I work in the back. I do drawings for people...commissions. Or, I've worked for the police a few times, but I don't enjoy that."

"Wow," he says. "I'm pretty sure that's the most I've heard you say about yourself at one time. That's really cool – the way you've been busy.  _I_  certainly haven't. If it wasn't for my stepsister, I'd be a bum by now – I'm really only good at music and swimming, and nobody will hire me. That's the sucky part of living in a small town. Everybody knows I'm a lazy underachiever."

It's nice that he can admit this without any embarrassment or resentment. I barely paid attention to him when I lived here, but goddamn, maybe that was a mistake. It's always nice to meet someone unashamed of his own personality – rare, too. Funny how that works.

"Are you...happy?" Dammit, why does my voice have to change  _now?_  If he thinks I'm crying, I might have to hurt myself. Just so there's a reason.

"Would I be sitting here if I wasn't?"

There are several different answers to that.  _Yes, if you thought you had to,_  is one. Another is  _lots of people do things that make them miserable._  I just decide not to answer, because it's easier that way. Also, my head is pounding in time with my heart. Where is Roxas? Does Lea really take so long to shop?

The music stops and Demyx asks, "Hey...are you okay?"

"Just...a little dizzy," I reply. I attempt to give him my Reassuring Smile, but I really can't do it. I'm not really up to bullshit right now – partly because he's been so forthcoming with me, but mostly because my head hurts too much for me to pull off a believable act.

This is no time for epiphanies. I've just had one anyway. I pretend everything in my life. Happiness, calm, interest, care. If I am to follow a logical thread, the next step is to admit that I must not really feel those things. But if that's true, I'm either the most melancholy sucker  _ever_  or I just don't feel anything except anger. And even that's rather muted, in the grand scheme of things.

Eh. My head hurts too much for me to really  _care_  right now.

"Oh, there you are," Roxas says from behind me. I can't hear a smile in his voice. That's not really a problem, since he really doesn't smile all that often...I don't even know why I'm noticing these inane things.

"Hey," I say.

I feel Roxas behind me and suddenly, Demyx's face lights up. "Roxas, my man!"

"Demyx...you look...better."

"Who's  _this,"_  Lea asks. If I didn't know better, I'd think heshe was  _jealous._  But I do know better. Lea's smart enough to know heshe's more important to Roxas than some kid from high school.

Now that I think about it...Lea didn't go to school with us. Heshe just  _appeared_  one day, and it was like heshe'd always been there. Roxas is two years older than me, so Lea was around for about a year, but still...goddamn. How did I not  _notice_  that?

Whatever.

"This is Demyx. We had a class together."

Demyx grins. "Yep, advanced jewelry."

"I didn't know you made jewelry." Don't worry, Lea. Neither did I, and I was  _there._

Apparently, I was always a space case. It's just more noticeable now.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he says mysteriously. "Anyway, we're going to grab something to eat before we go home...what do you suggest?"

"Marly's," Demyx says immediately.

"Oh, yeah, we heard about that in the store," Lea says. "C'mon, Roxas, that's two counts of good faith."

"I don't really care. I'm just hungry. C'mon, Naminé – we're going to Marly's. Bye, Demyx."

My head hurts. The earth is breathing. Roxas is back. And we're going to Marluxia's restaurant. Oh, happy day.

Sarcasm isn't half as funny when it's inside your head.


	5. Because We're Outlaws

I remember what I hated most about Traverse Town, now that I've come back. It wasn't the whole in-each-other's-business thing;I don't have business to keep secret, and I never did. It wasn't the whole living-a-million-miles-away-from-civilization thing; sure, it got annoying when Marluxia and I wanted to, say,  _see a movie,_  but even back then, I didn't generally like  _people_  much. No. It wasn't any of the  _usual_  reasons to hate a small town.

It was seeing the same faces every day, because nobody else was  _there._

Everywhere you go, it's  _oh my god, is that Naminé? I thought she killed herself._  Or  _look at that, Naminé's back from the loony bin._  Or, something a little different...

"Naminé? Is it really you?"

Nope, I'm just a figment of your imagination. That's why you could feel me when we bumped into each other.

"She's my long-lost identical twin," I say, hoping this chick will  _go away._  I got along with Yuffie, until shit hit the fan – that is to say, cancer ate my Kairi, my friends ditched me, my mom showed her true colors, and Marluxia convinced me that  _people_  just aren't worth it. If there's one thing I'll never forget, it's the important lesson he taught me. People suck, and unless they serve a purpose, they don't matter.

"...You're pulling my leg, right?"

"No...I came here looking for her, but she seems to have moved. When I find her, I'll pass along a message." What. The. Hell. Why am I saying this shit? Why am I even  _talking?_  I'm a fucking _lunatic,_  apparently.

"Oh...well, never mind, then," she says, and she sounds slightly perturbed. Well, whatever. It's not my problem. "I wish I could tell you where she went, but nobody seems to know, and her dad won't talk about it."

Ah. I should feel really guilty right about now – he didn't want me to go. I left anyway. It's too bad I don't feel guilty; it would probably be better for all parties if I was, y'know,  _normal._

"...Thanks. I...have to get some peas, so...?"

She steps aside. Even though I don't look at her directly, I know she's watching me – I can feel it. What I want to know is, why do people even care? I didn't exactly make it a secret that I was leaving. I didn't really have any friends, either; Roxas was gone, Sora and Riku were missing, Marluxia and I were on terrible terms...

Apparently, people thought I was dead. Or that I was in some kind of nuthouse. Was it just because the town is so small? Did people notice me a lot more than I noticed them?

Or was it because finally, the fearsome foursome had been eradicated from the town completely?

Kairi, Sora, Riku, Naminé. The fearsome foursome. Up until I was fourteen, we  _terrorized_  these idiots, and we had fun doing it. After everything, I felt like maybe I was cursed – everybody I cared about disappeared in one way or another, except my dad. But he's just one of those rare people – kind, awkward, and incredibly oblivious. He'd probably throw himself in front of a bullet if a  _cat_  was in danger, anyway.

I'm pretty sure he has a death wish, but whatever. He's not dead.

...I am a  _terrible person._

Even though it gives me time to think about stupid shit, I'm glad my dad sent me to get the groceries. I don't like stores...or people...or  _food,_  really, but I needed out of that house. Roxas and his Lea are driving me up the wall with their bizarre cuteness, and my dad just encourages them by  _letting them stay._  And besides, it's Fruit Week, so the front of the store smells like berries and melons instead of like plastic bags and sweat. Which is good, because sweat is gross.

I can still feel Yuffie looking at me, but I turn the corner quickly. Fucking weirdo. I barely spoke to her after Kairi died, and when I did speak to her, it was about my obsession at the time: death, in all its forms. I spent time in the library looking up cancer and AIDS and other fatal diseases. I spent Saturday nights in the cemetery, talking to Kairi and the shadows. I researched ghosts and hauntings and murders. I collected sharp objects.

That's when I stopped talking to people, unless they talked to me. I hated them for living. They thought I was, well, weird.

Yuffie, too, found it all very morbid and strange. Actually, I'm pretty sure she started the 'Wednesday' thing. Then, it was me and Marluxia and everybody thought he was scary, so I was scary by association. I guess. I think. I can remember faces and scenes perfectly, but unless I've seen them written, things like names and dates and conversations pretty much run away at the first sign of recollection.

I glance at the list and stifle a laugh. I know my dad wrote this, but I don't know how he survives by himself.  _Peas, potatoes, carrots, those cheese things that come in red plastic bags and make noises, milk, a thing of meat, strawberries, some onions or something to substitute, chocolate chips, regular chips but not the bad kind, salsa, beans –_

And the list goes on. He's lucky I know what he likes. He's also lucky Lea is apparently a god in the kitchen, because I refuse to make anything with beans – which smell weird – or carrots. Cutting up carrots is too much like cutting up fingers.

Not that...I've ever cut up fingers before. It just reminds me of what it must be like. There's a  _snap_ and the tip is separated...then you have to go up by the thick part, the knuckle...

Swear to god, I'm fucking insane.

Ah, shit. The produce section is  _crazy._  I knew it would be – Fruit Week, and all – but  _goddamn,_  it's more busy than I expected. It's like a bomb went off and instead of raining radioactive debris, it rained people. Which is pretty much the same thing, but  _still._  The point is, it's too crowded.

Ah, well. Braving the storm might be good for me. Also, we need the strawberries.  _I_  need the strawberries. Low blood sugar is never a good thing, seriously. And aside from all that, I have a story now. I don't really need it – I get along just fine by acting coy and stumbling over my sentences, thereby driving away people who are really only talking to me out of politeness or vague curiosity. But, and this is the evil part of me, I want to see how many people will actually buy bullshit.

I don't know why I do this. Maybe Marluxia was right, all those years ago – maybe I am just an evil human being. He said it as a compliment. But then, he always was a little off-kilter. It  _was_  his idea to steal all those snowglobes...

I go for the strawberries before someone else can get to the ones I want. How best to keep my mind off really retarded shit? Stay focused on something. Set a goal and follow through. This only works sometimes, but hell – I'll try anything, at this point. My own brain disturbs me, which is disturbing in and of itself.

I suddenly feel like grass, shyly nosing through cracks in a sidewalk made of human bodies. Inexplicably, I want an umbrella. Also inexplicably, I feel like throwing up. But actually, the man to my left smells like days-old chili cheese fries and bacon breath, so that's one mystery explained. I hate my nose, I really do. Smells distract me easily – and the problem is there's a lot more in this world which smells ugly than pretty.

...How apt.

Swear to god, one of these days I'm going to poison myself. Maybe then my retarded brain will _shut the hell up,_  seriously. Because I've been thinking, I've been standing about three feet from the strawberry stand for who knows how long. If you're crazy and you know it, clap your hands.

I grab the first carton of strawberries I can. But I have to put them back now, because picking berries takes time –  _fucking hell._  I should have let Roxas do the shopping like he offered. He'd probably be halfway done, by now. I'm usually like lightning, but...it's this town. This place. These people. This makes me sick, deep in my very  _soul,_  and my brain is slipping. It sucks so hard my eyes are gonna pop any minute now.

Okay, okay. Focus.

I put myself in 'memory mode,' training my eyes on each individual object in my path, memorizing the details, storing them away. In this mode, I could be run over by a truck and notice the color of blood on the pavement before noticing the pain. Everything is in clear focus and vivid, like I'm taking off frosted glasses.

Strawberries.

Buggy.

Pineapple.

Starfruit – which I need. The reason, at this point, eludes me, but it isn't important.

Floor.

Ugly woman.

Man picking his nose – ugh. Never again will I get apples from this store.

Starfruit display.

Larxene.

 _...Whoa._  For the first time,  _ever,_  Memory Mode has been broken – and by a  _person,_  no less. I mean, Larxene  _is_  pretty much a goddess, but...whoa. Just whoa. She's going for the starfruit.

The  _last_  starfruit.

Oh,  _hell no._

I clear my throat and step a little closer, hoping against all hope my voice won't waver. "Pardon me, but I need that starfruit." I reach out and snatch it before she has the chance. "I'm sorry."

She narrows her eyes, opens her mouth, looks at me, and...pauses. Then, a smile appears on her face with all the speed and grace of a three-year-old on a slip-n-slide. I'm suddenly, inexplicably, terrified – for my life.

I make a mental note to revisit this later (if she doesn't knife me) so I can appreciate the full effect without genuine, paralyzing fear attached to it. I haven't been afraid of anything since my worst fear came true and Kairi died. Oh, she is  _delicious._

"I'll be taking that back," she says. Her sultry voice pretty much makes me go weak at the knees, but this is bigger than life or death. This is  _starfruit._  This is – no joke – the only tangible reminder I'll ever have of those days as the Fearsome Foursome, and she can take it  _over my dead body, bitch._

Oh. Shit. Did I say that last part out loud?

"I'm sure I can arrange that," she says, almost vacantly. She's staring at me with this...amazing look on her face. I can't place it in a category other than 'absolute disgust,' but the thing is...I don't think that's it, or at least all of it. There's something else there. Something that excites me, even though I'm not sure why.

"It's the only way you're getting this from me. It's...special." Even to me, that sounded bogus. I can't look at her anymore. Goddamn, I'm made of stronger stuff than this! I run a photography studio, I live alone, I stomach Roxas-and-Lea,  _I didn't snap and eat Justine..._ this should be cakewalk!

Even if she  _is_  a goddess.

...Dammit. There's something about her that scares me out of my mind. It just came up, but I know it's true. This is not a fluke. And the most disturbing thing is that...yes, yes, I'm  _excited._  I want to see what she does. I...I  _want_  to make her angry. Fucking hell, I'm apparently sick. I guess the fact that Marluxia was my best friend says enough, but  _still._  It's startlingly clear, all of a sudden.

"Oh?"

"Yes?" Naminé, you should not answer with a question when the answer is a statement. But apparently, you don't know this. And apparently, you're so off you're talking to yourself like a separate entity.

I laugh awkwardly and try for a smile. I'm not a great smiler, so I'm pretty sure I fail. Hard. F-minus.

"Why?"

By the slick, sly, faux-inquisitive  _leer_  on her face, I know she knows there's something off about this situation. So she's quick. So she's smart. Any other time, I would probably fawn over how attractive that is...but now, I'm almost...hurt. I should be annoyed, but I'm hurt.

Swear to god, I'm such a loser.

"I'm taking it," I say stubbornly, and I'm now very irritated with my stupid voice. Fucking quiver. I turn away. I don't think I can bear talking to her for another  _second_  without crying, which is stupid, because I pretty much never cry. Crying's for pussies. And, apparently, me. What does that say about me?

Nothing I don't already know.

"Go ahead." This is not a good sign. "I'll meet you out back, all right?"

I wish the shudder that just ran down my spine was purely horror – or purely desire. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of crazy who feels, and likes, both  _at the same time._  And what the hell. Where did this desire come from, anyway? Bitch is scaring me  _on purpose_  and trying to steal my starfruit. It should be unacceptable. It  _is_  unacceptable!

"Yes, that sounds excellent."

Oh. Great. Not only did my mouth decide to be retarded for me, but my voice wavered. I really wish I could step outside of myself, wrap my hands around my neck, and  _squeeze._

She seems to stop – no, to stall. It's as though I've done something she wasn't expecting. I probably have, but I have no idea  _what._  As far as I know, all I've done is fuck up. Which, y'know, isn't all that exciting (or surprising). Here's a novel idea, Naminé: she's trying to figure you out.

Whatever.

"I...I have more shopping...so...um, I'm going to just..."

"I don't know why you want that stupid thing; they're disgusting." I'm aware of the odd taste, but I quite frankly don't care.

Tentatively, I ask, "Why did you want it, then?"

"Marly."

Ah. Bastard. Suddenly, I'm missing Justine; at least with her around, I wouldn't feel so  _small._ There's nothing better for a temporary self-esteem boost than hating on someone with someone else, for real. It's like therapy.

"Oh...I see." Could you  _get_  any lamer? Whatever. I already know I'm not gonna impress her, because I'm...well, me. Also my mouth  _totally_  talked without my permission. It ought to be punished, but how does one punish a mouth without punishing the teeth and uvula? Is the tongue considered part of the mouth?  _Why am I even considering this?_

"I'm sure you do, cutie."

Before I can think of a witty comeback – I'm kinda slow, when it comes to the whole  _conversing_ thing – she wanders off like a fucking slinky/cat hybrid going down the stairs.

...That would be cool to see.

And I still need groceries. Because I'm apparently borderline retarded, I pretty much forgot. But now I remember. I try to get into memory mode again, but I'm failing hard. F-minus-minus. I don't even want the fucking carambola anymore – it's tainted or something now. Fucking Larxene.

To be honest? Yeah, that's one of the things I'd like to be doing right now. Unfortunately, I have to grocery shop. And I also hate her. In that subjective, sort of  _she told me Santa's not real_  way. Which makes no sense, but you know, nothing makes sense. Life doesn't make sense, so why should I? It's unfair to expect it of me, seriously.

And also pointless.

I have no idea how long I've been standing here looking at this stupid fruit in my hand, but I'm pretty sure it's been a long time because behind me I hear Roxas say, "What the fuck, Naminé?"

"I..." It's embarrassing that I jumped. So I'm a little easily startled. Only by noises, and only if I'm deep in thought. Not. Not-thought. Whatever. "I was in not-thought."

Holy...did I actually just  _say_  that?

"...What?"

Poor Roxas. I look at him. He's alone; I wonder where Lea is. Suddenly, it hits me –

'Not-thought' and 'naught' kinda sound the same. But it really should be 'nought,' shouldn't it? 'Nought' isn't a word, but if you change the  _h_  to an  _a,_  you get a tasty treat.

"Let's pick up some eggs while we're here," I say. Lea might be a god in the kitchen (this hasn't yet been tested, so I'm taking it with a grain of salt for now), but dessert belongs to me. That's the rule. It's been the rule for thirty whole seconds now.

"Sure," he says slowly. "I just...well, I came here because Lea and I are going out to Olympus tomorrow. To see a movie. And she wanted me to ask if you wanted to come."

"Like  _that's_  happening," I tell him.

"Why not?"

I try to replicate Justine's  _The Look,_  but I've never been very good at those, so it probably doesn't look very chastising. "I don't do movies. Of any kind."

"You did with Marluxia." Is it just me, or is that a bit of resentment I'm hearing? If I wasn't so irritated with him, I'd probably be in awe. He's never been very good at passive resentment. Aggressive resentment was more his style, back when we actually lived in the same town and things weren't ridiculously awkward. "You always went to Olympus if you thought you were in _trouble."_

"Only because I was too young to know better. I'm  _not going,_  and that's final."

"Jesus, Naminé. It was only a suggestion. Lea told me to ask you nicely, and I did. She told me _not to be an asshole,_  and I followed that order too. You don't have to use that creepy tone with me just because you'd rather not be social."

"Don't be ridiculous; I'm as social as you are," I say, sticking my nose up in the air. I really don't know why I do this shit. It's not like I actually, y'know,  _care._  "Now  _hurry._  The groceries won't just sit there waiting for us to grab them, will they?"

He gives me an uncomfortable look. "Uh...whatever."

Asshole. It's like he thinks I'm  _crazy_  or something. I haven't been showing any signs...have I?


	6. Private Life

When I was about a year old, my babysitter dropped me. I hit the floor hard and I passed out. Of course, I don't remember all of this, but I've heard the story; the first time I saw my mother after she left, her boyfriend let it slip in the form of an 'amusing anecdote.'

Sometimes, I think that must be the reason I'm such a nutcake. Sometimes, I think it would have been better if I'd landed directly on my head and died. This kind of thinking is what most people call 'morbid,' and in some cases 'suicidal.' This kind of thinking is what I call 'normal,' and everybody who says otherwise is wrong. There are fine-ish nuances here people mostly wouldn't understand...mostly because they lack the insanity necessary for the job. Also, in the words of the only friend-like figure I've had since I left Traverse Town,  _why would anyone want to figure out your head, Naminé?_

Zexion's one of those guys who would be much better off using their genius for evil, but don't have outlets or minions (or money). So instead of an evil dictator, he's a high school history teacher.

...Never mind. He's still an evil dictator.

We met at my studio. His little sister witnessed a murder, and the investigating cops needed me to draw the woman she described. We were instantly attracted to each other, in a very platonic sort of way – he admired my technique, and...well, I admired his shiny hair. I think we were also attracted to the pure evil we saw in each other, but that didn't come until later, when we planned the perfect murder.

Really, the only reason we didn't do it is that we didn't have a deserving victim. Well, that and we weren't comfortable modifying that linear particle accelerator without more conclusive figures, but we don't talk about that part.

This...issue I'm having really requires his help, as much as I'm loath to admit. He's much better with people than I am; he has to be, if he ever wants to take over the world, and he hasn't told me he wants to, but if he doesn't, I'll make him anyway. So pretty much, he has to be.

Besides; he has this creepy knack for knowing exactly what to say at exactly which time to get people to melt in his hands. It might disturb me, if I didn't know he wouldn't touch my brain with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole.

I suck up my pride and dial his number. It's late, but I know he'll be up; he rarely sleeps for more than three hours. He just sits there and reads.

"Platt."

"Hey, Professor."

I hear him sigh. "I should have looked at the number before answering."

"I'd tell you I'm hurt, but you'd know it's a lie," I tell him. My relationship with him is unlike any relationship I've ever had, friendship or otherwise; I'm implicitly comfortable around him. He makes me feel stable, oddly enough. My spine automatically straightens around him. I'm not sure if it's because of the comfort factor or because he finds my bad posture amusing, but it doesn't matter...what matters is the feeling. "I need you."

"I don't sleep with crazies," he says firmly, but I know he's joking. It was hard to tell, at first, but now I can decipher his subtle tone changes with ease. I don't know how it came to this; by all rights, I should be genuinely terrified of him. But even in the beginning, it was comfortable.

"And I don't sleep with assholes, so you know that's not why I need you. Remember when I told you about Marluxia?"

"Should I bring the Demon Lexicon?"

True story: Zexion Platt can be hella protective, given the proper motivation. Oddly enough, my companionship is enough. My funniest memory of him is the time we were up late in his kitchen, having tea in the dark; he hit a burglar over the head with a dictionary and not only knocked him out, but gave him a concussion. We called the police and everything, and when they arrived he gave them a spiel about protecting his home and guest. I'd figured it was only a story; he can be very short-tempered on occasion. But finally he admitted it was the truth...and warned me to never speak of it again, or he'd unleash power of the book on me, too.

Ever since then, I've called his home dictionary the Demon Lexicon. He only calls it that as code for 'who do I have to kill?'

"No, no...nothing like that. I just...everything's so...different. He's different, but the way he looked at me was the same as before. And he has this restaurant, and this absolute  _goddess_  just hanging around, and everybody thinks he's some kind of gift to humanity, and...I've been avoiding him."

I only ramble to him. If my dad heard me talking this much, he'd probably throw a party. "Then there's my dad's girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. It's my fault again. The thing is, the girlfriend was actually pretty nice. Good for him, maybe. But her daughter is such a ditzy loser and she annoyed the hell out of me. I think it would have been tolerable if it wasn't for Marluxia and his stupid charm and her crush on him. It sorta drove me over the edge. I feel bad for making my dad think I didn't like Lisa, but Justine grates on me... _I hate stupid people,_  Zexion. It's really bad."

"Stupid people are easy to hate," he agrees. I hear him hum. "Why do you need me?"

I can always rely on him to get to the point in the most irritating way possible. It's one of his many talents. He can also sing  _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_  in thirteen languages, but that's not really relevant to my current situation. "I don't know...well, I do, but I don't know how to say it. I guess I just...I guess I want to see you. Being here has forced me to be all  _social_  and I've been spacing out and I've gotten zero work done. At least with you here, these people would be semi-tolerable. Your snide commentary in my ear is always comforting on several different levels."

"I think I should take that as an insult, but I won't."

"I'll text you my address."

"Don't call me again."

I hear a  _beep_  and I know he's hung up on me. I also know he'll be here as soon as possible. He'll tell me he's been bored, which will absolutely be true; but he wouldn't follow me on his own. He knows that's the closest to begging I'll ever come, with anybody, and I guess he can be considered my best friend (which is an entire different category, even though I don't really have any other friends anyway) because he won't rub it in my face too much.

I don't smile, but that's really only because I  _don't smile._  I really ought to fix that.

But, I won't. It's too much effort, and it makes my cheeks hurt. Instead, I keep my word and text him the address. Then I close my eyes and wait for sleep in the dark.

I hear a noise outside. I refuse to go check what it is – I'm  _not_  scared. It's not that. I just don't really want to get out of bed, because there's a wrinkle in the rug I  _always_  trip over on my way to the light switch.

Yeah, okay. I'm scared. Last time I looked out the window at night, a cat jumped through and tried to claw my eyes out.

I hear it again. Then I hear something hit the window. Possessed cat? Possibly, but I'd probably see the evil eyes through the glass, even in the dark like this. Also, I'm on the third floor, so unless the cat has magical flying powers, I'm being stupid. It's most likely just some dumbass throwing shit.

This in mind, I toss my covers away and push open the window. It's raining heavily (surprise, surprise), and my head gets wet, but my biggest concern is the dude standing in the yard. See, if I wasn't hallucinating, it would be Kairi, but my eyes are clearly trying to play tricks on me because it's not Kairi at all. It's a man.

"What the hell are you doing here," I hiss.

"You're in town and I'm bored," he replies.

"Well, I hate you."

"I'm hurt, Naminé." He's  _such_  a liar. He'd have to have a heart before he could be hurt. "Won't you come down?"

"No." Why do I feel childish all of a sudden? I totally have the right to say no if I want. Besides, last time I saw him he was using me as a meat shield. I think. Either that, or he was calling a bluff. Or, he just wanted to touch me.

I wouldn't know.

"Why  _not?"_

I wish, when he was whining, he'd  _sound_  like it. I hate how some people can hide so well. "I already told you!"

Fucking hell. I ought to throw myself out the window. Then, I'd have a reason to cry. I can't believe it's actually  _happening._  Any old girl might take it as a sign, that she's hurt or lying or both, but not me. I'm just pissed. Honest.

"Yes, yes, you hate me. That doesn't mean you can't come down."

Well...he has a point. "Give me a minute," I grumble, wiping my stupid eyes. I'm only wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts, but it's summer, so the rain will be hot. I close the window and debate forgoing shoes, but I decide to take them...just in case.

I don't really do anything else to get ready, because...because he doesn't  _deserve_  it. I'm only doing this because I have nothing else to do...and because I really shouldn't be afraid of him, so I'm proving it. Yeah. It's not like I  _miss_  him or anything. And it  _definitely_  isn't because I think I might run into Larxene while we're out, because they're best friends. And it's not as though I really feel like I need to apologize. Nope. Nothing like that.

I'm not  _that_  crazy.

I've only just opened the door when he says, "Took you long enough."

"I think I should be saying the same thing," I tell him without even thinking. He gets that look on his face and I flinch, even though there's really no reason. I mean, I'm an adult, he's an adult, and he's opened a restaurant, so he can't afford to get charged with anything.

"Relax. I'm not going to hit you." Aw, really? I kinda liked it. But that's a secret I'm taking to my grave. "Shut the door already."

Yes,  _master._  Goddamn. If I fall back into old habits, I'll ask Zexion to shoot me when he gets here. Or better yet, I'll just throw myself in front of a moving vehicle. A semi would be ideal, but I'd settle for a Gummi Hyperion.

"...Why did you say you should be saying the same thing," he asks suddenly, looking at me like I'm insane. Well, I am, but I was  _hoping_  it could be a surprise. Maybe if I shout it –  _surprise, I'm insane! –_  he'll be surprised anyway?

...No.

"I...I just mean..." Stupid. Fucking. Voice. Swear to god, it'll be the death of me someday. "I've been in town for a while, and...if you were going to see me, I..."

Yeah. So there.

"Your family is surprisingly protective of you. Throwing pebbles at your window was my last resort."

"Oh."

Well, don't I feel stupid. See? There's a reason I should come down from the attic more often – maybe people might want to see me, but actually, I  _didn't_  want to see Marluxia, so staying in the attic was a  _good_  thing and why am I even thinking about this? What's done is done, seriously.

"You've...got my attention," I say. Lame. Seriously lame. Someone needs to cut out my tongue.

"Good. Now, if you'll accompany me...?" His manner of speech can still make me swoon? That fucking  _sucks._  Now I'll have to watch myself just as closely as I'm watching him. I think it has something to do with his voice – it's all smooth and measured and weirdly condescending. If Zexion said the same things, I'd probably feel like laughing, not clinging to him.

I really did think I was past this already. Dammit, I'm pretty sure I'm  _made_  of fail.

"Of...of course."

He holds his arm out and I take it, because...well, he's got the craziest moral system. Ever. Stealing from people is no problem. Beating somebody up? Cool beans, they probably deserved it. Killing people is only bad if there isn't a reason, but that reason can be anything from 'he killed my sister, the bastard' to 'he was too nosy.' He's just really too lazy to do it himself. But if I don't take his arm it'll be mean of me, and he'll get all ruffled. Pfft. Still, a ruffled Marluxia is equal to a pissed off abyssal anglerfish.

Actually, now that I think about it, he's rather like an abyssal anglerfish all the time. Unless, you know, he's totally changed, but I'm pretty good at getting a read on people, if I bother to pay attention. Sure, he's grown up – and well, at that – but he's still dangerous. An anglerfish.

I wonder if he'd bite me.

"Where are we going?" I'm really glad my mouth sometimes does that thing where it talks about something different from what I'm thinking, because my brain was  _not_  going in the right direction. At all.

It's like Van Gogh out here. I totally forgot how  _vivid_  being outside at midnight in the middle of nowhere looks and feels, but now that I'm back, it's almost overpowering. The warm rain has already let up and there's a beautiful star-filled gap in the clouds – even though it hasn't even been two minutes since I came outside, and I'm absolutely soaked with once-warm rain – but that's not important. Oh, if I could only draw this. But, you know, I'm not one for nature scenes. I actually kind of suck at them.

And some things shouldn't be captured. Some things live better as memories, even if the intensity is fleeting.

"Don't ask questions."

I really, really love that tone. It's all sharp and warning. It's too bad he's usually mostly talk; his presence takes care of the idiots who don't know him, and the ones who do find it really sexy. He's meant it twice with me. The first time, we had sex. The second time, I had a bruise on my cheek for over a week.

I'd take either right about now, and  _wow,_  I should stop thinking. He's kinda bad for my mental health. Or maybe he isn't. I wouldn't know; 'health' is a very relative term, and even I don't consider my brain healthy. I only pretend so I can jump out at inopportune moments and weird people the hell out.

Haha, you're a psycho.

He leads me through the trees, which is good because I'm too busy watching the starry hole and being stupid in my head to watch where I'm going. But when it starts raining again, I sigh and look at him instead because I'm not very happy when I have water in my eyes.

He's stunning, as always. Even more so than the last time I  _really_  looked at him – like studied him. I have a keen eye for beauty, because...artist. Well, actually, I don't deserve to be called an artist. Real artists have vision. Real artists are usually kind of interesting, too. I just have a good memory, a good eye, and kickass spatial awareness, or whatever. Basically, I'm more like a drawing machine than an artist. It's a good title, though. It makes me feel special.

I'm glad he knows about my staring problem. At least, he  _knew,_  and I'm hoping he remembers, because it would be embarrassing to be asked what I'm doing. I realize what I  _am_  doing, and look away quickly. Didn't I say I'd throw myself in front of a moving vehicle before falling into bad habits again?

Dammit!

I keep my eyes fixed ahead of me. There's enough to see that I'm not going to get bored (maybe nostalgic, but that's to be expected, and I have an entire lecture written somewhere. I can give it to myself when I get home). When I see our destination, my stomach flutters. I recognize this!

"It's still beautiful," I hear myself saying. If I could stop thinking, I'd never stumble over my words or sound idiotic. Well, I'd still sound idiotic, because I'd be a real airhead, but my voice wouldn't misbehave anymore.

"I should hope so. Larxene's been helping me."

If I call him on being nonlinear, he'll probably get mad. Or laugh at me. On the other hand, I really do want to know if those two statements have  _anything_  to do with each other. Is his garden more beautiful because it's Larxene helping him instead of me? Or is it still beautiful because he still has help? Or maybe he mentioned the help because she's  _right there._

Whoops. I'm pretty sure she said something, but I was too busy swooning.

"Uh...um..." Haha, you're a moron. "Hi."

"Ooh, you brought along the little girl," Larxene says, obviously to Marluxia, but her eyes are fixed on me. And, because apparently I can't break some habits, I'm looking at her nose,  _pretending_  I'm not freaked out by her eyes on me.

"She's older than you are," he says dryly.

She shrugs, and refuses to look away. At this point, I'm feeling rather violated. "And shorter."

"Yes, well." He sounds so amused, but I'm just losing my ability to think properly. Can't she just stop staring? Am I really that ugly? Or is she just waiting for me to break? I wish I knew. "I thought it would be  _nice_  to show her how her hard work has paid off."

Why do I feel like that's an insult?

"Aww, how  _sweet_  of you!" Finally, she moves her eyes...only to meet his. They move closer, and suddenly they're kissing – it's only a small movement, a short touch, almost shy. But for some reason, it really does take away my breath. In the  _bad_  way. I don't know why, though.

What was I thinking, coming here? What  _am_  I thinking? More importantly, what was I expecting? It's not like he was bringing me out here to profess his undying love to me, and if he had, I wouldn't have believed him anyway. It's not like I even  _wanted_  that. I mean, yeah, he never dated anyone while I still lived here, but is it so weird to see him with someone else?

Is it so bad that he's moved on?

They look good together anyway – much better than I could ever look, with either of them, but to be honest Larxene is only in the background at the moment. They're both beautiful people, and I'm just not. I'm really not.

"I...um, I've seen the garden now, so..." What was I saying? "I...have to go."

"Oh?"

I hate it when he does this. "Yes?" And I hate it when I do that.

"But you haven't even seen the surprise yet."

He has that look, like he's going to stop me, and she has this smile on her face like I've just lost an important game or bet or something. Like she's going to eat me. The world is closing in on me, not like when it breathes but like it's swallowing my head and chest, and I say desperately, "Please let me go."

I don't know what he sees right then, but Marluxia's face goes blank and he seems to wilt like one of his flowers. It's bizarre and it makes me sad. Like crying sad. So I turn around and pretty much _flee_  and I hear her ask him something, but I can't make it out over the erratic beating of my heart.

As soon as I reach home I lock myself in and run up to my attic as fast as I can; I can feel tears in my eyes, and like  _hell_  I'm gonna let anybody see me cry. Like  _hell._

When I let it come, though, I'm surprised. I haven't cried this hard since...since then.

I was fourteen, and Kairi was in the hospital. I was so frustrated with everything, with the ups and downs, with the  _waiting for her to die._  I leaned over her and said, "Can't you just  _die_  already?"

When she answered "I wish I could," I realized what I'd done, and I left. I came to this exact room and cried just as hard as I'm doing now, except I wasn't wet and my bedspread was blue, not white. I finished with my cry and figured I'd go back 'tomorrow,' patch things up. But I had this feeling like I needed to go  _right then,_  so I did, even though I was exhausted from crying.

When I got there, she was barely conscious. I apologized over and over, and I only got this half-cognizant smile. Like she knew I was there, but she didn't know what I was saying. I was so afraid to lose her, so I leaned over and hugged her close, sort of half-sitting on my chair and half-leaning on her bed. I fell asleep like that. When I woke, it was to a panicked flurry of activity, but they were too late; she'd already died in my arms.


	7. It's a Metaphor, Fool

There's an irritating  _thok-thock_  on my door and I'm jerked from the kind of heavy sleep where you don't have any dreams, or if you do, you don't remember them.

I'm very annoyed by this. Dammit, why do I have to face the world after my irrational mopefest last night? I would be okay with sleeping until I'm dead, thanks. And because of my stupid brain, I'll have to remember perfectly how...yeah, actually I don't even know if that was real. Maybe it was a very vivid dream; that happens to me sometimes. Now that I think about it, that's probably the case. Ah. Time to get up and face the music – I mean knocking. Whoever's doing that really needs to shut the hell up, but it probably won't happen, because people are stupid. I hope they all die.

I am  _not_  a morning person, apparently. It's gotta be, what, five in the morning? Only crazies wake up this early just to knock on somebody's door. If there isn't an emergency, I'll make with the killing.

"What," I snap as I open the door, only to be met with the sight of my  _real_  best friend's face. "Oh. It's  _you."_

"Unfortunately."

We're so friendly. The friendliest.

"Would you mind moving out of the way? I'm exhausted," he tells me. I don't know what his deal is with manners and other...well, totally unnecessary shit. It's different with him; Marluxia's fixation is more to do with having something to hold over somebody else. Like making himself seem more refined, more tasteful, even though he probably hates you. Zexion is just...I dunno.

I really, really don't know. I have this feeling it's probably a good thing.

I move aside and wave at my bed. It's a queen, which is hilarious because I sleep on the very edge, curled into a ball, all night. Three of me would fit on a  _twin._  "I'm not done sleeping, so you're either sharing with me or sleeping on the floor." Three years ago, I would never have said this to anyone, much less an evil mastermind. He's different, though, and I'm pretty sure if anybody saw this interaction, they'd assume they were hallucinating and promptly block it out.

Even Roxas. Actually, probably  _especially_  Roxas, now that we're reunited and pretty much ignoring our previous estrangement. Tiptoeing, and other fun euphemisms like that. Also playing a dangerous game. Eventually, it might blow up in our faces – I'm planning on taking a sick day and not being there.

"What?"

Luckily, Zexion knows I'm a space case and doesn't bother to be insulted by the fact that I didn't hear a word of what he just said. He just sighs in a very obviously exaggerated put-upon manner and repeats himself. "I deserve a bed after all the speeding I did last night. I know that voice, and I'm not going to let you do anything stupid."

True story: I nearly killed myself once. It was an accident, kinda – I mean, it wasn't like I sat there in the dark thinking about it, and it didn't even dawn on me that if this went on,  _I was going to die._  It was like, an experiment.  _Hey, how many milligrams of Lorazepam does it take to completely shut down a_   _body?_

He was pissed. He totally had the right to be. When I realized what I'd done, I called him and told him in this weird, calm voice that I was probably dying and would like to be buried in white, and I also needed a new coffee maker so could he please pick one up on his way home from school tomorrow?

I was seriously fucking delusional, and I spent a couple of days all comatose in the hospital. I wiggled my way out of psychiatric horror by telling them the truth: I hadn't realized how much I was taking. It was close, though. Any more wiggling and I'd have gotten stuck.

True story: I don't regret it.

True story: I wish I did, because maybe then it would make more sense.

True story: he thinks that calm tone is indicative of 'something stupid,' like eating pills like candy. It's not. It's actually the tone I use when I'm trying not to panic.

"I'm sorry if you thought that," I tell him. "You didn't have to go so fast, though. It wasn't like that at all." It never is. But the problem is, after something like that, nobody ever believes you when you say it isn't. Nobody in that place wants to admit it's  _exactly_  like that. That would be kind of counterproductive anyway, right?

"Well, I was bored anyway," he says, setting down his fuckton of baggage – goddamn, he packs like a girl – and flopping on my bed like a very graceful trout. Man, all my best friends are like fish. Maybe that explains why I always throw them away. At the moment, I'm really hoping Zexion doesn't let me do that to him, because as trout-like as he's acting, I actually do like him. He's like the only person I've never imagined headless or bleeding. Plus, he smells a hell of a lot better than a fish.

Where is this coming from, anyway? Swear to god, I'm the most ridiculous person to ever walk the face of the earth.

"Rest your head, then," I say, quietly. My voice is watery as always, but I'm not actually worried about it. I'm more worried about the way he looks. There are circles under his eyes too dark to come from one night of no sleep, and his clothing is less than pressed.

I lie beside him and listen to his breathing even out – before he slurs, "I miss my kids."

I blink away the shadows that have apparently been creeping into my brain. "Huh?" Okay, not so eloquent, but I'm tired too.

"My  _kids."_

"You mean..." I stop and think for a moment, because I've just forgotten what I was about to say. Ah, I remember. "You mean...the kids you accidentally...accidentally terrorized with your evil laugh?"

True story: he has the best villain laugh I've ever heard. He accidentally let it loose on one of his classes. Not a one of them acted up for the rest of the year.

"They were the best students I've ever taught. They all  _earned_  their A grades. No one did B work. Darla gave me a flower..."

Ah. Darla. I kind of find her creepy, mostly because she has this crush on him. He doesn't know this, and I'm not going to say anything – he thinks he's her favorite teacher. If only he knew how favored he is.

Haha, you're a freakshow.

"That's-" I can't hold back the yawn. "That's good."

He yawns too, and – dammit. Yawns are totally contagious. We're going to be trading them until we fall asleep, I know it.

I touch his arm, but he doesn't respond, so I know he's already asleep; he's lucky. He can fall asleep within seconds. I'm not so lucky. It's not like I'm an insomniac, though. I already feel the shadows crawling in again.

When I open my eyes the sun is streaming through the window  _just so,_  and Zexion is still asleep. I climb over him and go to my closet – it's time to work. The stupid project is the only reason I came here in the first place.

Back when I drew exclusively with crayons, I didn't even imagine being where I am today.

I get my pencils and my big pad from my art bag and bring them to the big fluffy chair in the corner; it's always been my drawing chair. It's big enough that I can curl up and still have room for my materials. Plus, it's the color of Kairi's hair. That's why, when I was thirteen, I begged my mom to buy it for me.

That was less than a year before she left us. I used to think maybe it was my fault, that I asked for too much, because my parents never fought. Ever. But now I'm smart enough to know they didn't fight because my dad doesn't fight and it takes two to tango, and my mom left because she's a megabitch. If anything, I was the one who kept them together that long.

Somehow, that's even less comforting, but the nice thing is that I don't really have to think about it. Being an adult with my own business – in more than just one sense of the word – gives me that privilege.

I decide to start at the beginning; the lines of a person's face may grow and even change externally, but if I can get to the underlying structure, the rest of the pictures will be cakewalk. I can do that by starting with childhood and calculating allowances for natural growth.

I love the feel of a pencil in my hand. I don't love many things, but I do love this. It's like I have the power to...do something. I don't know what. Right the world, maybe. Yeah. Yeah, rewrite everything. Make it better, or just different. Isn't that what I'm doing right now?

If I could rewrite the world, I'd make Kairi live instead of me. Funny how before, I would have been bitter about disappearing.

I don't know what time it is, or how long I've been drawing. I never know how long I work, and I have this irrational hatred for any kind of timepiece, but I guess it's kinda important right now. Zexion's still not awake, but I'm not going to wake him. He looked terrible this morning. I mean the kind of terrible that requires TLC and a fuckton of rest, not makeup. Which would look terrible on him anyway.

Except maybe eyeliner. But even if I owned any, I'm sure he'd hit me before letting me put it on him.

There's a quiet knock on the door. I'm pretty sure it's my dad, because Lea would knock loudly and Roxas would just barge right in. "Come in," I say quietly. If it  _is_  my dad, he'll hear, because his ears are obnoxiously keen. If it isn't, well, then they can't come in.

The door opens. Dad's face comes into view, mouth already open to speak to me, but he's distracted by...oh.  _Oh._

"Why is there a strange boy in your bed," he hisses.

"He's not a strange boy!" I frown. "He's a strange  _man._  But I know him. He's my friend from Twilight Town."

"But why is he in your bed?"

"Would you rather he be in yours?" I don't wait for an answer. "Besides, didn't you let him in last night?"

He frowns and shakes his head. "I was asleep at ten last night. I'm finally finished with the Daniels disaster, and I deserved a break."

Ah, Dad. Family law  _sucks,_  but he's good at what he does. I remember hating most of his clients, but then, I remember hating most people, so I'm a terrible judge of character.

Wait. How  _did_  Zexion get in last night?

We really don't need to have that discussion right now. "What was it you wanted, Dad?"

"Oh. You have a visitor. I'm...a little surprised."

I'm not insulted. I'm  _not._  He has a right to be surprised. The only people who really like me enough to visit me are already in this house, and that doesn't count Roxas or Lea.

I glance at Zexion, who is still sleeping. "I'll come down. What time is it?"

"Eleven," he replies, glancing at his watch. "I'll go find an extra setting for your...friend."

He's so sweet. I only realize this after he's already on the stairs, so I don't get a chance to thank him, but let's face it – I probably wouldn't. It's embarrassing. You always say thanks, and then they're like no problem, or don't mention it, and you're like but I'm grateful, and it's always so awkward so I usually try to avoid the whole thing. If it makes me look rude, well, that's the price I pay for the easy life.

Well, that's not true. I do thank people, on occasion. I always wish I hadn't, though.

I sigh and leave my room, closing the door behind me so Zexion doesn't have to deal with any noise. I take my time on the stairs, mostly because I'm now afraid it's my mom, and last time I saw her she shoved a check at me and pinched my cheeks and disappeared again, and I'm really not in the mood.

When I get to the living room, I have to fight the urge to run away.

Fucking Justine.

I watch her warily. I imagine I look like a baby bird or something, but seriously, what the fuck? What is she  _doing here?_  I really don't like her. And this time it's personal.

"Uh...hey," she says.

"Hello."

She stands and I can practically feel the couch rejoicing. I don't even know what it is about her, because I've met stupid people before. This is insanely hypocritical, but I really hate stupid people – but that's a general thing. So what  _is it?_

"I have a proposition for you."

Oh god. "I'm not a lesbian!"

She looks at me like I'm crazy. Which I am, so I really have no right to be insulted. I'm not, anyway. "It's about your dad and my mom."

Ah. Now I feel stupid. Surprise, surprise. But, in my defense, the last time somebody said that to me, we ended up having sex. It fucked everything up. "What is it?"

"I know you can't stand me." Was I really that obvious? I'd thought I was being nice! "I don't know why, and to be honest, I don't really care. I was only in town to meet Mom's oh-so-amazing...lover? Whatever, it's not important. The important thing is that I  _saw_  them, before you came. They were happy. You don't even live here, and I don't think being his daughter gives you the right to mess up a good thing. This is my idea: we don't have to see each other. Neither of us live here, and your dad said this is the first time you've come to visit since you left, so running into each other isn't likely. My mom's really upset, because your dad's the first nice guy she's met who liked her back. We don't have to see each other, but just... _please_  tell your dad you were wrong about her?"

That was the fastest talking I have ever heard in my entire life. Did she even  _breathe?_

But...she has a point. I even think I was being unfair, and that, like,  _never_  happens. Would it be that simple, just telling him I think he should give it another try?

"I...all right," I tell her. "I don't know if..." Crap. What was I going to say? Ah! "...if it will do any good, but...I'll try."

My mind is elsewhere. Which is good, because the blinding grin she gives me is the most annoying thing I've ever seen in my entire life.


	8. Strange and Beautiful

Even after my shower and getting ready for the day, I really can't get Justine out of my mind. She's like...that train wreck people always talk about, except funnier. I'm pretty sure people could say the same thing about me, which in retrospect is probably the reason I hated her on sight. Plus, she looks like Kairi, and that's illegal. It just is.

Zexion is still asleep (can that man seriously get any lazier?), so I figure I'll just leave him a note and head to the library. Oh yeah, that's right – Traverse Town also has a library. It's a dinky thing with a terrible selection, but it's a library. I don't know what it is about them, but they always make me feel good. And the ambiance in the Town Library – which is a stupid name, but whatever – is trippy. I always find inspiration in there.

Well, not necessarily 'find.' It's more like it hits me with the force of rolling steel pipes, which  _ow,_ would hurt in real life, but that's not really the point.

I rip out the last page in my sketchbook and write –

Went to the library. Cheerios in the kitchen, bowls in the cupboard by the fridge. Bathroom next door. Feel free to eat all Roxas' fruit snacks. Please.

If I woke up in a new place, I'd want to be entertained, but Zexion likes his 'me time.' He's a terror when he first wakes up, which is why he's always up two hours before he actually has to leave for work.

Freak. Swear to god.

I pack my sketchbook and my pencils in my case, put my music in my ears, and slip some sandals on. True story: almost everybody in Traverse Town has a closet with almost no shoes in it. Boots for winter, sneakers for fall, sandals for spring and summer. This may be because we have exactly one shoe store, actually. Irritatingly, even with the rain summer is brutal here, which is why we all wear sandals.

People in Twilight Town think I'm really weird. I am, but that's not the point.

When I get outside it's raining. Again. The rain is why I have a waterproof bag with me, and why I did absolutely nothing with my hair. I don't really do a whole lot with it anyway, so nobody would be too surprised, but I  _thought_  about doing something with it. I might run into someone and want to impress them. I'm not thinking any names, though.

The library is about a mile and a half from my house, but I actually do like the walk to the library. I have to go through this little patch of woods before getting to the weird place people actually  _call_ the Urban Jungle – I've never really stopped being amused by that. Every building is ultra-modern and more 'city' than even Crystal Fissure, the 'big city' closest to us. There are no trees, even as decorations, and at night everything's neon. That's where the library is – in the 'third district' right by Merlin's, a little occult store which does surprisingly well.

I went in there with Kairi once. Riku's mom had told her if she wasn't responding to normal treatments, she should try natural healing and gave her a list of things she could try. I liked the smell of the store, but the 'treatment' was disappointing – thing is, cancer can't be cured. Not with modern medicine, not with essential oils, not with crystal work. It just can't. Just like even with that Lorezepam I couldn't cure the earth breathing delusion. I'm pretty  _sure_  it's a delusion. The doctor said it was, and that it came from anxiety. She was fucking weird, but more knowledgeable than me.

I may have been vague, which may have hindered my 'treatment,' but I really  _hate_  shrinks. Maybe because they actually say you're crazy out loud. They don't have to say the words, but they give out things like 'delusion' and 'anorexia nervosa' and 'anxiety disorder' like candy on Halloween. Might as well just say "You're a fucking loon, here are some drugs. Also eat your veggies or else."

I laugh at the image of some old bespectacled psychiatrist, hands folded on his big oak desk across from me, saying  _that._  A kid on the sidewalk beside me (who looks disturbingly like Tidus, the blitzball player I wouldn't even know if it weren't for his much talked-about relationship with Yuna, a chick from my favorite band) looks at me like I really  _am_  a fucking loon, and I realize I'm not actually  _on_  the sidewalk. Hmm. That's why my feet are wet. My brain is going to get me killed someday, or at least in a fuckton of trouble.

I move to the sidewalk and pretend I didn't see the kid. For some reason, it's like...if he doesn't know I saw him being weirded out, I don't have to be embarrassed, even though I kind of am? Like hiding your head in the sand. If I can't see you, you can't see me.

Dammit, I used to  _like_  this walk, this time to think. But now, it's not peaceful; it's annoying. I keep forgetting how different  _I_  was when I lived here. I've gone so far into my head I'm not sure I'll ever be able to get out again. Maybe I don't want to get out, anyway. People are stupid. At least I'm familiar with my own stupidity – though Kairi used to say I was so smart I was stupid, and she loved it.

I feel it coming on again, and I clutch my chest. No.  _No,_  this cannot happen right now. Fucking hell, this is...this is like in movies, I think. Only when the earth breathes through me I won't be sucked into another world, find myself on a spiritual journey, or die. Because it's not real. It isn't happening, it only  _thinks_  it's happening.

The rain soaks into my hair as I stop. I know I'm crazy. It's not hard to see. But why can't it just go away? Did I do something so terrible in a past life that I have to suffer for it now?

Pfft. I don't believe in past lives. There's this one, and then oblivion.  _That_  is why I'm not eager to die; I don't have any other chance to do the things I want to do. So this sucks. So I'm crazy and really weird and sick. If I don't go bungee jumping or paint a mural in this life, I'll never get to do it. I want to know what it's like.

Okay, I think I've got this under wraps, for now. And once I get to the library I can throw myself into my work; when I'm drawing, the entire world could collapse and I wouldn't notice until I was dead. And then I wouldn't notice anyway, because I'd  _be_  dead.

Having a job is  _awesome._

The trip seems to go so quickly it's like I'm not actually walking; sometimes this happens. I'll start in one spot, look ahead, and suddenly be in the spot I want. It's not anything mystical – though that would be cool – but it's me being a total space case, as per usual. It was helped along by a fucking weird song blasting in my ears for a few minutes...I don't even know half the songs on my player. I'm computer illiterate, so I have Zexion put music on for me, and sometimes he puts really crazy stuff on it.

This one was about...a stalker? Casting a spell? Yeah, fucking weird. I should pay more attention to the music playing in my ears, but mostly it's just to fill up the silence. I  _hate_  silence. I like quiet, but I hate silence – it's worse than being squeezed into a tiny box. Not that I've actually been squeezed into a tiny box, but I'm claustrophobic enough to feel like I have many times over.

I bet Zexion would laugh at me if he knew I didn't even pay attention to the music blaring in my ears. That's mostly why I don't tell him to stop putting random shit on it. Also because his other best friend/colleague – the biology teacher, Lexaeus Brown – is pretty much a mountain, and if  _he_ laughs at me, I'm pretty sure I'll cry.

Zex must be a crazy person. That's the only explanation for surrounding himself with freaks.

I take my earphones out of my ears. Before I can even open the door, someone says, "Naminé!" I twist my head to look for the source of the voice, and I find Demyx. Why does he keep popping up when I'm trying not to let things get to me?

"Hi, Demyx." My voice decided to play nice today. Hurrah.

"I..." He scratches his head, kinda by his ear. It's cute. It's also random that I thought that, but it's still true. I guess he's kind of a cute guy, objectively. "How have you been?"

Behind door number three is the answer  _really fucking terrible._  Behind door number one is  _spacey._ I give him the answer behind door number two. "I've been all right. And you?"

Because I'm just that awesome.

"Oh, you know. I religiously avoid high-stress situations, so I'm always pretty chill."

Is that slang? Dammit. Maybe I  _do_  need to interact more; they're developing a new language. Young people these days...

"That's...good?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Here's where it gets all awkward. This is where it  _always_  gets awkward, when the necessary pleasantries have been exchanged and now there's nothing to discuss, but you're already talking so you're searching for a topic.

I laugh and try not to run away. I can handle lots of things, but awkwardness just really doesn't do it for me.

"I'm having a party," he blurts suddenly. To be honest, I'm rather startled. But I totally didn't jump. If he saw anything, it was his eyes playing tricks on him.

"Good for you."

His laugh is drawn out, almost like a sob in laugh form. It's weird. But it's not bad. "I'm  _inviting_  you. This is a going away party...when Roxas and Lea leave, I'm going with them. I'm finally getting  _out_ of here."

True story: everybody wants to get out of Traverse Town. Most never do.

"Okay," I tell him. Then, on inspiration, I ask, "Is Lea a guy or a girl?"

He does that laugh again. I think it's his normal laugh, which is strange, because usually that kind of question would get an awkward fake laugh. Grinning, he replies, "He's a she. For the most part."

"Except the part where she's a he?"

" _Exactly."_

Funny how it makes sense. It's a joke, yes, but it's funny because it's true.

"I'll come to your party, if I can bring my friend." I almost hope he says no; parties are for squares. "Where is it being hosted?" Is it just me, or did that sentence sound overly ridiculous?

"Of course! The more, the merrier, and all that." Goddamn. Stop smiling. Demyx is kind of starting to scare me. His cheeks must  _kill_  by now. "It's on Friday at nine. It'll just be at my house – if you go to the mall and head east at the corner of Accessorize!, it's the third door on the left side of the street."

Yeah. This is much better than getting an address. I can actually  _understand_  these directions. Comes with living in a small town; nobody bothers with addresses. It's easier to guide by landmarks.

I try not to laugh when I imagine Zexion and Demyx interacting. I have a feeling it will be utter madness, which is exactly why I wanted to bring him. I love it when other people cause chaos; it's hilarious.

"All right. I'll be there."

"Uh...good. See ya," he says, and I  _almost_  feel bad for him. I tend to make people very uncomfortable when conversations are over. I wave and attempt a smile, but I don't push it – I also tend to make people very uncomfortable when I try to 'turn on the charm smile.' I think the wires are crossed and the switch labeled 'charm smile' is actually for 'pure evil.'

Once I know he's not coming back for anything, I  _finally_  open the door and step into the library. It's not really your stereotypical library; there's a bunch of old funky furniture strewn everywhere, like a kid's messy room. Granted, it would be a very bizarre, erudite kid's room, but still. There's a glass case in the very center of the place, where they showcase new or interesting books. Today, it's...

Oh,  _hell no._

There's this poet from Radiant Garden who's been published, for some reason, and everybody seems to like her stuff...even though barely anybody has read it. Like mob mentality for the literate, or something. I've read her. She's crap. Her first book is a miscellany of stupidity and her second should be entitled  _Et Cetera._  But aside from Zexion (and possibly Lexaeus?), nobody seems to agree with me.

In addition to her crappy poetry, she also gives us interviews. Sometimes late at night if I can't sleep, I read the news, because what's more boring than current events? She's  _everywhere._ People ask her where she gets her inspiration and she's like  _oh, it's not inspiration, it's a part of me_ or  _I dreamed about a cloud, and that dream paved the way for my latest craptastic creation._  She actually uses the proper names. I don't care.

She isn't a poet. She  _thinks_  she's a poet. Her lines are rigid, her words are frilly and embroidered, and her subject matter is mostly cliché. It's like she picked up  _Poetry for Morons_  and copied everything, then changed the words to make it look original.

It may be irrational, but I really hate her. She pretends to be this sensitive artist, but she expects everyone to treat her like a queen and she lives so frivolously it's ridiculous.  _And_  her voice is like tacks in a blender. Blech.

Everybody wants to be famous. Most people shouldn't be.

I move away from the showcase and take up my usual chair in my usual corner. I'm lucky they haven't removed it; it's very ugly and worn, and it's really too big to be considered a 'chair.' I always put my feet up, much like what I do in my room, and sit in such a way that nobody can see my sketches unless they ask or steal my sketchbook.

I'm very careful pulling my tools out of my bag, as it's still wet and I'm still wet. If I ruin any of my work, I'll probably die. I have a board that goes under my sketchbook while I'm drawing, which will protect it from my own wet clothes (I really need to get my big suitcase from my dad's trunk; this is my last outfit, a horrid white thing which would be better used as a nightgown), but I'm seriously _dripping._

Ugh.

The daughter, the central focus of my project, was really cute. Always smiling, surrounded by friends and family. The replacement is very solemn, even as a baby. I never ask questions beyond details of my commissions, but I'm really curious as to  _what_  inspired this insane project. Is it some lonely girl trying to create memories of a life she never had? Huh. Sounds like something  _I_  would do, if I was desperate.

I don't know how long I've been gathering pencil dust on the butt of my hand when I see a delicate fingertip perch on the top of my sketchbook. My immediate response is to make an irritated noise and smack the hand away. My second response is to look up and maybe bring myself to apologize to the possibly innocent bystander, but when I see who it is my mind just kinda gives up for a minute.

Hot  _damn,_  she looks good.

"I thought it was you," Larxene says to me sweetly.

"I think I'm me too," I reply. Lame. So lame. F-minus. I'm made of dumb.

"I noticed your tiny head sticking up behind your sketchbook. I'd know your hair anywhere."

Well, she's looked at me enough to know me anywhere. I guess I can take that as a good thing. "Um..."

Yeah, I still don't know how to respond.

Her little frown is so... _cute._  Goddamn, I've got it bad, and I don't even  _like_  the bitch. Is it possible to be sexually attracted to someone you hate and  _not actually want to be sexual with them?_  If so, that's exactly what this is. I've only fantasized about her after the fact. After she wasn't in my presence anymore.

"You know, Marluxia told me you were 'a fairly good artist.' He either downplayed your abilities, or he has  _seriously_  high standards..." Suddenly, she looks almost embarrassed. Like she's just realized she was, gasp sigh, complimenting someone. "But objectively, your subject matter  _sucks."_

Great. I love you too. I notice what she's got in her hands and blink. Carefully, I change the subject and ask, "De Sade? Really? They  _have him_  here?"

She leers at me. Yes,  _leers._  I have to wonder if she's crazy...or if she's psychic. Or possibly just a natural leerer. "You're interested?"

Ah. "I've...never read him." I say this almost wistfully, but it was supposed to come out differently. Well, at least I'm giving the book in her hand a dubious look. In case she thinks I'm a freak, I add, "I don't speak or read French. Or any other language...the only two phrases I know are  _bonjour_ and  _dónde están_   _mis pantalones._  And I'm pretty sure the second one's not even French."

"But you  _have_  heard of him."

I snort. Whoops. That was ridiculously unattractive, I'm sure. "Who hasn't? But I've never been...um, interested, because...I've heard..."

So yeah.

She looks at me with...pity. It's false – anybody could tell that from a mile away – but still, it's a really strange look on her. "Don't listen to what people tell you. De Sade was brilliant and forward-thinking. His work might be extremely sexual, but it's full of  _truth –_  this is what happens.  _This is what we are._  Maybe not now, as much..." She shrugs. "I respect the underlying realism. And I'm all for the immediate subject matter. You should give it a try...I think there are a couple of translated works out there. I wouldn't know."

So she's gorgeous, she's intelligent (this is untested as of yet, but I'm really getting that vibe off her, and I'm pretending we weren't just discussing what we really were discussing because I'm kind of disturbed right now), she's slick, and  _she speaks French._

Where have you been all my life?

...And why do you make me contradict myself so much? Seriously, I hate you.

"I'll...I think I might," I tell her, mostly because I feel like I need to say  _something_  but I'm not sure what to say. Also, I want to see that leer again. That was rather sexy.

She leans down and cups my chin, and I can't look away, which makes her doubly intimidating. "What goes on behind that innocent face of yours? I bet you're really a terrible person."

She lets go and without waiting for an answer – not that I could provide one anyway – leaves me in the corner, staring after her like a moron. If I wasn't busy being left weak and speechless, I'd run after her and give her a very specific piece of my mind: as much as I hate to admit it, I'm human.

Of  _course_  I'm a terrible person.


	9. Already Pretty Clever

Zexion is on my bed reading. I wasn't really expecting anything else, but it's still a little jarring – I honestly never expected to see him  _here._  Now that he is, I almost regret calling him; almost, but not truly. Just having a familiar face here makes me feel better. More comfortable. More self-assured.

I wonder what he did with Fuu – probably left her with Julie next door. She's old and never had children of her own, so she loves it when she can babysit. Fuu's sixteen, but still too young to be on her own – they'll probably swap stories or do that girl talk thing. I never really got into it, so I don't know what it entails, but I've heard it's what girls do.

"Hey, Professor." He hates it when I call him that, which is exactly why I do it so often.

He sighs and closes his book. "Hello."

"Did you find your way around?"

"Yes. Your home is a house, not a labyrinth."

I roll my eyes and, after carefully putting my bag into my closet again, sit next to him. I'd kinda like to just slump over and lean on him, but I don't want to give him any fuel for ridicule. Oh, he'll be subtle, but he's still evil. Even if he  _is_  my best friend. Well, it's not like I'm an example of goodness anyway. "Did you run into anyone?"

"Yes...I showed your note to the blond in the kitchen. He was not amused, but his...friend was."

"Bit more than a friend," I comment. I wonder what Zexion would think of 'Axel.'

"Yes, I'm aware, but it's quite disconcerting to be in his presence." He shakes his head slowly. "That person is clearly a man, and yet...smells  _and acts_  like a woman. I've met crossdressers before, but this is different. Awkward."

"Yeah...but Roxas – that's the blond you met – has always had weird taste. His first crush was Paine, from Gullwings. He was thirteen. She was nineteen. He never met her, but he decided she was the love of his life." Ouch. That's just like me, isn't it? "It's not surprising that he'd fall for a freak, of sorts. We're all mad here."

"I see." He looks as though he's going to pursue the subject, but then he gives up. "Did you have a good time?"

"I...guess." Do I tell him or not? Well, I did want his help when I called, so it would be stupid to not tell him. "I sort of ran into Larxene today."

"And Larxene is...?" He waves his hand in a kind of circular motion, as though pulling something forward.

Ah. I forgot to tell him her name. "She's Marluxia's new best friend." I really hope that didn't sound bitter. "She's tall, she's beautiful, she's the scariest woman I've ever seen, and she's  _absolutely infuriating._  And she keeps saying weird things."

"Sounds like your true love," he says dryly. I know he's joking, because he doesn't believe in love – he's smart, after all – but I also know he's not joking, because he knows me. I should look into getting a new best friend. Someone dull and eager to please. Someone fit to be a minion.

True story: I tell Zexion  _everything._  It's not because he's my best friend, and it's not because I actually like to talk about myself, since I don't. It's because he's really smart, so he figures out what's going on – rather, he figures out some variant of it, and if  _I_  don't tell him, what he imagines is always worse than anything I could ever do, say, or think.

"If by 'true love' you mean 'arch nemesis,' then you're absolutely correct," I reply in the same tone. I tell him everything. Just not right away.

"Right."

Like  _he'll_  accept my bullshit. He doesn't press it, though, which usually means he's taking the challenge upon himself. Eek. To change the subject, I ask, "How did you get in last night?"

"Ah, that." He looks  _entirely_  too pleased to have just been let in the front door.

"What did you  _do?"_

"Your basement bathroom window was open. I popped the screen out of the frame and climbed in."

"You...broke a window?" Oh god. Now I  _know_  I have a reason for my voice to sound faint. "You broke a  _window."_

"I put it back," he tells me, in a rather small voice. I'm suddenly reminded of Monty Python, for some reason, and I have to stifle a laugh. Dammit, I'm supposed to be mad, or at least a bit disgruntled, but that's just like him. When in doubt, do it illegally.

True story: he became a history teacher because he  _likes history,_  and thinks everyone else should love it too. No evil plan, no strings attached. That's why they actually hired him instead of running away.

"Well, I guess it's okay then." Not really, but "We just won't tell anyone, and it'll be fine; my family isn't big on communication."

That sounded weird. True, but weird. "Speaking of family, where's Fuu?"

He winces. It's so small it's imperceptible to anybody  _out_  of the loop, but I'm actually in, so it's how I know something's wrong.

"She's...in juvy," he tells me.

" _What?"_

Fuu's his little sister. He pretty much raised her when their parents bailed. That was six years ago; I don't know how he managed to keep himself in school  _and_  raise her, but they do all right now. I figured Fuu to be a good kid; she's a bit of a sore loser, and very quiet, but she's intelligent and incredibly loyal.

"She got herself a  _boyfriend,"_  he says contemptuously. Whoa. Usually, when he dislikes something, he's more...subtle about it. Boyfriend must  _really_  piss him off. Well, if he landed her in juvy, I kinda hate him too.

"And...?"

"I taught him,  _two years ago._  Not only is he too old for her, but he still makes trouble like a teenager. The other boy in their little trio is just as bad."

He really needs to calm the fuck down. Not many people would notice, because he doesn't get ruffled very much and when he does, he's more sarcastic than blatantly antagonistic, but he has a very dark side. It's showing right now. Normally, this wouldn't bother me – actually, I find it hilarious – but this is  _Fuu_  we're talking about. Family is different.

"Well...this is a first time thing, right? Maybe if you talk to her," dammit, my stupid voice chooses the worst times to be like this. "She'll stop?" Also, I don't believe that, but that's not really the point. Sometimes, you have to give somebody a little bit of bullshit to make them see things in a different way. Or at least get them to laugh at you, so they're not so upset.

"Fuu does not attach well. When it does happen, she will follow that person anywhere. Having that kind of talk with her will only make her see me as the enemy, and she is my responsibility."

I really hate his parents. I don't know where they went or why, but I don't fucking care. Zexion was way too young to be taking care of a kid, and now he has to deal with Teenage Hormones. And not just that, Fuu's a  _girl._

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "What do you think you should do?"

I always do this. I'm terrible at giving advice, but sometimes a person doesn't need advice. Sometimes all you have to do is make him or her choose, out loud. I learned  _that_  nifty trick from a therapist.

He gives me a nasty look. Whoo. He must  _really_  be pissed. "I  _should_  ground her for the rest of her life, but that's not an option. I can't treat her like one of my students, either; she's  _not_  a student. I could just...ugh. I could kill her!"

"Don't," I advise, even though I know he's not serious about it. "What did she do, anyway?"

"She and those two boys got in a street fight, resisted arrest, and then antagonized the arresting officer when they got caught. I don't know what she's thinking. I...am  _not_  equipped to deal with this." His little sigh says more than  _he_  has so far. "What if...what am I doing wrong? What if they...I _promised_  her I wouldn't let her go into the system, Naminé. What if they take her away from me?"

Ah.  _There_  it is. Zexion never makes promises he doesn't intend to keep, which is why he rarely makes them. He tends to be selfish and disingenuous, always watching and doing what I call _plotting_  but is more like making sure everything turns out for the best where he's concerned – but raising a kid makes things different, no matter what.

Plus, she's his sister. We've all heard horror stories about The System, and they're sad and make us sick and everything, but it's usually  _just_  horror stories. It becomes much more real when the threat is there.

Kinda like getting kidnapped or having a car crash or something. Maybe it's not right, but it's what everybody does. Even the most empathetic of people. And...I don't really fit in that category anyway. Maybe it's terrible of me. It's still true.

Zexion may be an evil genius, but his worst nightmare is getting Fuu taken away. It would kill him.

"Right," I say, and I force my voice to sound as stern as possible. "Then this  _is_  a 'talking to her' thing. You have to tell her what you told me. I mean, don't yell at her or anything – I'm not really afraid you  _will,_  but I just have to say it – but you have to let her know how this is affecting the different aspects of her life. That is, if your fears are really founded. Fuu's a really smart kid; she'll get it, as long as you talk to her calmly and present logical arguments. She'll probably get mad, because she's a teenager and you're the parental figure but not her dad, and maybe she'll even say something untrue like  _I hate you._  But it would be worth it, right? Maybe ground her for a weekend after you talk to her, explain  _why_  she's in trouble, and tell her it's up to her now."

He blinks at me, face blank, and I swear I've never been scared of him, but I am now. Well, maybe not  _of_  him – I guess I'm scared  _for_  him. This is why I'm never, ever, ever having kids; they do things and get in trouble and I would probably spend all my time thinking about how I never should have had them in the first place. That would be shitty parenting, and I'm not really up for that.

Also I hate kids. I really do.

"That's a great idea," he tells me. "In theory. But she's not...Fuu is-"

"Take things a bit at a time. If you plan out your entire life, you'll only be disappointed. Besides; you have to remember Fuu's a teenager." This is where the helpful bullshit goes. Bullshit because I have no idea what I'm talking about, helpful because usually it's true. "Teenagers have a tendency to rebel anyway, but you have to remember the circumstances. Her parents left her, and now she has to take orders from her stupid older brother. Everyone  _else_  has parents. Everyone _else's_  big brothers take them to amusement parks and introduce them to the secret world of awesome. You work your ass off to keep her alive and...relatively happy. Logically, she should be totally grateful and do everything you say, but that's not how it works in real life. Most people aren't logical. At least Fuu's not  _stupid."_

"I...suppose you're right," he says, giving me a dubious look. Poor Zexion. He always has to be in control of everything, or  _oh my god_  his life will absolutely  _fall apart,_  Fuu will leave him, his students will riot in the streets, et cetera. It's why he's a schemer in the first place.

"Of course I am," I reply. "Now let's go get ice cream."

He scowls at me rather murderously, but that's mostly because I just exploited one of his three weaknesses (the first weakness is his love of certain sweet things; the others are his sister and his thirst for knowledge). He knows I'm at least partly right, and he's also probably embarrassed that he lost it like that. He doesn't do that – I'm surprised, actually, but I'm not going to tell  _him_  that. Talk about counterproductive.

...Hey! I just realized I can be nice and helpful!

He slips his shoes on and follows me downstairs and out the door. His car is in the driveway, which is great because the sweet shop is all the way in the first district and I don't feel like walking four more miles today. My dad really should get a house  _in town,_  but he and my mom were totally nuts and decided to settle down 'away from bad influences.' Pfft.

I guess he hasn't moved because the house is completely paid off, so it would be financially unwise to move. It's smart and logical, but it's still really annoying.

When it's me and Zexion, he drives. Period. It's not bad, since I'm actually a really slow driver – you try to drive fast, knowing what can go wrong internally and cause Bad Things to happen – and he, well, likes his control. I just hope I can get him through Traverse Town without too much trauma. Everybody gets confused here, except the natives and nobody ever comes here on purpose so maybe it's not as bad as it seems?

Eh, whatever. Zexion's a good driver and I have good eyes, so we'll be fine.

"You're awfully chatty today," he tells me as we pull into the street.

I shrug. "I've been going crazy. Good conversation is hard to find." Not entirely true, but the people I really want to talk to are scary as hell or People To Be Avoided. "You're awfully whiny today."

Also not entirely true. However, I know he won't take it as an insult, because he's too cool for that. He's not so sensitive. It's nice to know that people like that are out there.

"Whatever."

"How..." Fuck. My. Voice. "How long can you stay?"

"I have to leave early Saturday morning at the latest. I just came to make sure you didn't need a ride home or anything."

I look at him through the side of my hair. Sometimes, I can't look at people – it's stupid, because I know they can see me; I'm not an ostrich or anything. I just get embarrassed for some reason. He isn't even looking at me, but I feel like I can't look at him.

Swear to god, I'm so ridiculous.

"Will you go to a party with me, then? It's tomorrow night." Now that I think about it, why did Demyx say 'Friday' instead of 'tomorrow?' Weird. I mean, he was always kind of a weird guy, so I guess it shouldn't be too surprising. I wonder if his dream is still to make money doing nothing other than playing music all day. I remember him saying that a lot in school, but back then I didn't even know he could play anything.

"You want to go to a party? I thought you were against them on principle."

Wow. He's not even joking on that one. "I am, but...I dunno, Zexion, things are weird here. I have a-"

"Left or right?"

"Right," I tell him, gesturing vaguely. "Then you want to go straight until you hit Geppetto's toy store, at which point you'll turn left and then right as soon as you can."

I give him a minute to process all of that before I continue, "I'm not really  _me_  here. I don't even know who I am, but it's not who I was and it's not who I am in Twilight Town. This place is getting to me."

"Naminé, you're just...you," he tells me almost irritably. "Does it really matter what these morons think?"

Well, fuck me sideways. Isn't that what I'm all about? Not caring? Why'd I need  _Zexion_  to tell me what to do?

Because he's my best friend. Friends don't let friends get hurt, but best friends hurt you beforehand as a preemptive measure. Tough love, so to speak.

"No, it doesn't. I still have to put in an appearance, though, because I said I'd go."

Fuck my life, seriously. Can my voice get any mistier? Actually, no – I don't want to know. I just want it to go away. Well, whatever. I know it won't, and I know my shaking won't go away, and I know every time I'm even slightly nervous my hands will just bring themselves right up to my mouth or my face. Just like I know Christmas should be in spring, global warming is a real danger, and black widows are venomous.

"I understand." But he doesn't, not really. I have a thing about agreements. You can promise anyone anything, but making an agreement is actually more binding. When you make negotiations, it means you're serious about the deal. Backing out of an agreement is so much worse than backing out of promises.

He wouldn't agree, but he's not me, so I don't really care.

"Good."

I remember a dream I had once, in which Riku, Sora, and I were on a little island, and about four or five years old. There was a meteor shower and I got scared, so Sora picked up a little wooden sword and told me if a meteor came toward us, he'd protect me. Then Riku picked up  _his_  little toy sword and challenged Sora to a duel, to see who was worthy to protect me.

I kept looking around, trying to find Kairi. When I found her, it was because she was coming toward us with her eyes wide open and so scared. I looked at Sora and Riku, but they were too absorbed in their little fight to watch the sky. The Kairi meteor fell to the earth, on top of Sora and Riku, and the sea swallowed them all. I was left on the island alone, until someone appeared just at the edge of the island. I don't know who it was, or even if it was a real person, but I knew it would be like a knight, something heroic.

Whether he knows it or not, Zexion's my knight. He's the figure at the edge of the island, coming to rescue me. I really hope he doesn't know. And I really hope he doesn't find out, because that...would be really embarrassing. Also I'm not usually this sentimental, and he probably wouldn't know what to do with it.

We're quiet, but then we often are. He doesn't need useless noise, and I don't  _like_  useless noise, and sometimes there's just nothing to say, so why try?

Sometimes I wish I could fall in love with him. We're actually pretty perfect for each other, and we get along, and he's an attractive guy, and – more importantly than almost anything – we  _like_  each other in a platonic way. I mean, it would be a perfect partnership. But no matter how much you _want_  to feel something, it doesn't work that way. You can't just make yourself fall in love like that.

Also, 'fall in love' is such a stupid term. I've never really 'fallen for' anybody, not like they say, but 'fall' doesn't really bring pleasant imagery to mind. Plus liking Kairi was like  _flying,_  not falling. It was like the world was bright. Maybe it would be different now, since I'm not fourteen and I know the world is a big shithole, but I don't think so.

Love is lame anyway. No feeling, no matter how good, is worth that agony of losing somebody. And you  _will_  lose everybody. I try not to think of what will happen when it's Zexion.

"Oh, hey," I say suddenly, and he jumps about ten feet in the air. I bring my hands up to my mouth so my laugh won't escape, because that really was funny. "The...the candy shop is..."

I can't finish. I'll laugh so hard my heart will stop.

He shoots me an irritated look and pulls over, which is what I was going for, so...awesome. He won't make me talk.

The candy shop is just a little thing, out of the way, but it's usually packed since it's one of the only places you can go to sit down in Traverse Town. I'm pretty sure there's a candy shop in the mall, too, but really only teenagers and insipid parents with small children will be in there, and that's terrible. I'd rather drink my own fucking spinal fluid than spend time around so much stupidity.

Swear to god, I'd go nuts. For reals.

"This is..."

Yeah, not what anybody expects. It's this dark little corner of Traverse Town, probably better suited to gaming than sweets, but whatever. Like the library, it's a little eclectic, and there are paint splotches  _everywhere._  Initially, they wanted the customers to write on the walls, but people kept writing things like  _fuck you_  and  _Jon got lucky_  and  _this lolly tastes like shit_  and the owners kept having to repaint the walls, so now it just looks like somebody did that balloon popping art all over. Come to think of it, that's probably exactly what happened.

"Welcome to Traverse Town – craziest city this side of the River Styx."

Funny thing is, there really is a Styx about sixty miles from here. I don't know what it's really called, but on the other side is Olympus and the Lotus Forest; if Traverse Town is hell, then the river is the River Styx. Even my teachers called it that.

I hold the door for him – I'm such a gentleman – and inhale the scent of Pure Awesome. I'm not all that fond of things like people and food, but I could stay here until I'm so fat my feet can't hold me up. Seriously, they have the best  _everything._

"I'm paying," he tells me.

"Why?" Not that I'm not grateful or anything, and it's not like I'm going to fight him on it – it's  _rude_ to fight someone on that kind of thing – but he's not usually that  _nice_  right away.

He scowls and looks to the side. "I just am."

When I look where he's looking, I pretty much choke. Fucking  _hell,_  is he serious?

"Oh my god! Zexion?"

Well, okay, Olette  _did_  come from Twilight Town, but...man, this is just weird. He's not the kind of person who actually does nice things just to be seen in a different light. Oh, he makes it  _look_  like he's being nice, if it suits him, but goddamn.

"H-hey, Olette..." Zexion doesn't stutter, and he doesn't  _trail off._  What the  _hell_  is going on here?

"I haven't seen you in so long!" She twirls the end of one of her pigtails with her index finger. Usually, it just makes the person look stupid or at least slutty, but I can see what she's doing here. She's  _nervous._  Roxas spent enough time with her for me to pick up on that, even all these years later.

"No...it's been years."

Okay, I feel  _really_  awkward right now. Half of me wants to drag Zexion home, kicking and screaming if necessary, because I don't really want to share him. The other half of me just wants to slink off and pretend I never saw this.

"You two know each other?"

"We were next-door neighbors when I still lived in Twilight Town," Olette gushes. Yes,  _gushes._  I'd thought she had more sense than that. Well, whatever, I don't  _really_  know her that well.

Really, what I'm concerned with is what  _Zexion_  said. They dated in seventh grade? Is that even possible? What seventh grader really dates anybody?  _Hey, you want to go to the mall with me? I can get my mom to pick you up, and I saved up my allowance so I'll be able to buy you something nice._  No. Hell no.

"Oh...that's great," I say. I feel totally ridiculous. "You...want to catch up?"

Zexion gives me a weird look, and Olette says, "If you don't mind? We could all go to Marly's; I get discounts, since I work there."

"I'm gonna have to skip out," I tell her. "You two go ahead; I'll go home and work. I should do that anyway."

Yeah, I already worked today. Yeah, I need to work more. Yeah, I really need to get away right now.

"Well-"

"I'm taking your car," I say. "Olette, can you give him a ride home?"

"Of course. I still remember where it is." She turns to Zexion. "I had to spend lots of time there, since Roxas and I had a project for history-"

Pfft. Friend stealer.

I really hate her, which is sad, because she's pretty much the only person here I could actually _like,_  as in  _be friendly with_  or  _consider a friend eventually._

I sort of check out for a while and drive myself home. I don't really want to think about what Olette's telling Zexion, or what he's telling her, or whether they're going to...I dunno, do things. Aesthetically, they don't work. Olette's sweet, and Zexion's evil. But they knew each other, and they looked friendly, and Zexion...

 _Ooh._  I'm glad I'm home; I can go be angry in my room and not worry about running over people in the street. I slam the door of his car –  _take that –_  and then slam the front door behind me.

"Whoa," says a voice. Fucking  _Lea._  I really don't know if I can take  _himher_  right now.

"I'm sorry," I say immediately. What the fuck? I'm not actually sorry. I don't actually  _care._ Whatever. I just say stupid things sometimes.

Lea gives me a dubious look. "What for?"

"...Nothing." Dammit, my voice is too watery, and it's probably because I kinda wish I could cry. I'm so stupid, seriously.

"I see." Heshe totally doesn't. "Well, Roxas is out with your dad getting food, so..."

I see what I have to do. Funny how I'm going to do it, even though I'd kinda like to kick Lea's sweet transvestite ass. "You can...come up to my room. I have to work, but we can talk..."

I turn and practically run up the stairs as fast as I can, so if Lea answers I don't have to hear it. I can hear Lea on the stairs right behind me, because my legs are short and hishers are giant, but I don't react because I'm pretty sure if I say anything I'll either yell, cry, or just die.

I pick up my pad as soon as I get inside, leaving Lea to close the door. I try not to look up, but when I do, Lea's giving me this bemused look – so puzzled it's adorable. I don't  _do_  adorable. Unfortunately, my heart doesn't agree with me, because for the first time in  _years,_  I can feel my lips turn up slightly without a command.

"So...what's up?"

"...Um."

Whoo, spell awkward. I'm so glad I don't do this – that is, communicating with strange people – on a daily basis. I feel ridiculous, and it's totally weird that I'm not suddenly irritated. In fact, I'm not even angry anymore...what the hell?

I laugh and Lea laughs and we avoid each other's eyes. It really is kind of amusing.

"So...Lea?" Before I can stop myself, I ask, "Or is that even your name?"

Lea gives me a really,  _really_  weird look. "I...really don't know."

"Well who does?"

Two things: this is totally bizarre, and I'm really starting to regret my invitation.

"I guess...I guess I'd be Lea."

"That's a weird way to phrase it," I tell him.

"Well, I'm in a weird situation," he shoots back.

"Because you'd rather be a girl?"

"No! I mean yes." Heshe doesn't really look or sound convincing. At all.

"Oh  _really._  Or is it just that Roxas likes you this way?"

Bingo. Lea's face darkens, like heshe's trying to look intimidating because heshe's feeling intimidated. Classic posturing. "Oh, what would  _you_  know about it, anyway?"

Ha. I love it when people antagonize me and I have a true story to tell. "You know, when I was fifteen I wanted to...well, I wanted to do what you did. I asked Marluxia if he would still love me if I decided to be Nathan or something. You know what he said?"

Heshe looks at me confusedly. "You...wanted to be a guy?"

I sigh. "That's not the  _point._  It wasn't that I wanted to be a guy...I just didn't particularly want to be a girl anymore."

"Oh, I completely understand  _that,"_  heshe says.

"I know," I reply softly. I don't know why, though – it's not like lowering the volume of my voice will make what I'm saying any different. "Marluxia said bodies are irrelevant."

Lea snorts. "Like it's the heart that counts? He said that?"

"No...well, he said it's the  _brain_  that counts, the consciousness, and anything else is only important because it keeps the consciousness alive. You know – you can't have a personality without a body, essentially. So it doesn't matter."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"He used to be...nice," I lie. The truth is probably more like he liked how I looked and if I changed it would be weird when we inevitably got physical. But I'm not going to tell Lea that, because it would ruin  _everything._  "Anyway, I'm saying it's totally up to you to dress and act however you want, but I can  _guarantee_  Roxas loves you for your personality."

"How...can you be so sure?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Oh god. Did I actually just  _say_  that? I was going to say something nice, like  _you have a nice personality_  or  _you have a good heart_  or something. I mean, what I said is the truth, but sometimes truths don't need to be voiced.

"I'll have you know, I have admirers back in Hollow Bastion."

"Different strokes," I say, and hastily move on. "It's the truth, though – Roxas loves you for what's inside you." I do a damn good job of not cringing and hiding under a rock. That was so cheesy and romantic they could sell it at Beast's Castle to tourists.

"I..." Heshe scratches hisher cheek. That tone...Lea seems so cocky and  _irritating,_  almost constantly. How could  _Lea_  be insecure? Or perhaps it's all just an act? "I don't think Roxas would like it if I were to be a guy...level the playing field, so to speak. He's never  _said_  anything, and he always gets this look on his face when I suggest doing things differently, so – why are you _laughing?"_

As soon as I catch my breath, I explain, "Roxas is one of the densest people on the  _planet._  He's very smart, but he's about as observant as a rock. If you've been doing things this long the same way, he probably doesn't get why you're asking. He probably thinks you just like it this way. He's kind of rough, and dominant in his actions, but he'd be hopeless without direction. By dressing and acting like a girl, you're essentially telling him what to do – treat you like a girl. If you don't like it that way, you'll have to explain it to him in detail. That 'look' is probably just confusion. Does he clench his jaw and wait while his eyes get dark?"

Lea's eyes  _bug._  "That's his  _confused_  face?  _That's_  what I've been scared of?"

I'm having another laughing fit.  _Goddamn,_  this is too good to be true. I have to lean over and put my hands on my knees just to breathe. I haven't laughed this hard in my  _life –_  swear to god.

"It's not that funny."

I gasp for another moment, and then straighten. I see his expression – almost ruffled, like a wet cat – and I have to hold back another spray of laughter. "Roxas is harmless, unless you hurt his friends or piss him off. And it's very hard to piss him off. He's a natural asshole because of that cluelessness. It's kind of adorable, isn't it?"

Lea's grin is sharp and  _almost_  sexy, if I let my eyes unfocus and don't look at the obnoxious chin underneath. "This explains a  _lot._  I've been tired of this for a long time, you know...but..." Suddenly, Lea looks like a kicked puppy instead of a wet cat. It's a huge change. I'd ask if he was bipolar, but I actually know what that is and how it looks, and random mood changes is  _not it._  "I just thought he wouldn't like me anymore. He's such a goddamn  _mystery."_

I feel my face go slack. This is my 'reassuring face.' I don't know if it looks reassuring, but at least it doesn't look like I'm laughing at him anymore. I am, in my head, but  _he_  doesn't know that. "Don't worry,  _Axel._  If you just talk to him – explain yourself – you'll see. He's a little emotionally stunted, but like I said, he's smart. He'll catch on."

"Huh.  _Axel."_  He gives me a weird tiny smile. I pretend not to notice. "Haven't heard that name in a while. You know, you're not as crazy as you look."

"Oh, I am. I just hide it until I can scare the pants off someone."

He reaches over and punches me on the arm, like Sora used to do to Riku. A punch of true friendship. "I like you, kid."

I know my irritation doesn't show on my face, because I realize –

During that entire conversation, my voice didn't act up. Not even once.


	10. Dancin' and Singin' and Movin'

The house is a simple two-story thing with an ornate front door and a swing on the wood porch, and in the twilight it seems to be pulsing to the rhythm of the loud music inside. It isn't, but that's just how it seems.

Zexion whistles quietly. "Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."

"That's inordinately fatalistic, don't you think?" I give him a look of mock-horror. "Don't faint on me."

He doesn't reply but his look of annoyance says enough. I congratulate myself on a job well done, even as we approach the gate to Hell.

It's like a fucking airport in here, all close and milling and shit. People speaking different dialects, too. I'm not even past the foyer in Demyx's huge-ass house and I'm already scared for my life and annoyed beyond recognition and how does something like that  _happen_  within thirty seconds? Fucking hell.

I  _hate_  parties.

I can see Roxas in the living room attached to Axel, who seems to be charming the pants off everybody who  _hasn't_  met him. It's a surprisingly large group, but maybe it shouldn't be; after all, he was only here for about a year before he and Roxas disappeared in the confusion of a smoke bomb named Mom. No really. It was seriously the worst period in my entire life.

When they learn he's not all that charming, I will laugh my guts out. Probably.

Zexion wrinkles his nose and I find myself doing the same. I'm pretty sure somebody barfed somewhere close by, and that kid by the door did  _not_  put on deodorant today. They're eating pizza and something chickeny and there's tons of alcohol here. Fuck.

True story: I can't hold my liquor. I don't get drunk, but I barf it all back up pretty quickly. I don't know what's worse; being teased as a lightweight, or not being inebriated during said teasing. That's why I don't drink. I think tonight's line will be  _I'm diabetic, jackass._

Yes, that will do nicely, especially since I pretty much never ate in front of anybody when I lived here. Eating is a really ugly action, and 'masticating' is an aptly ugly word. Blech.

"Hey, Naminé," somebody says in my ear. I recognize the voice.

"Hey, Yuffie," I reply dully. I don't hate her, she's just...I dunno. A person. Being on my own has lessened my tolerance, I guess, because it's not like I'm one of those kids who opened fire on my classmates. I didn't even think of it. Oh, I thought about ripping their faces off sometimes, or using their eyeballs as decorations, but it wasn't more than idle fantasy.

Y'know, like my entire life seems to be.

"You know, I ran into your twin the other day," she tells me, smiling. I can smell the gin on her. If the party's in full swing and she's been here for at least an hour, she's probably drunk.

"I didn't know I had a twin," I reply. I don't sound shocked, like I wanted, but whatever. The mist in my voice makes it hard to really portray much emotion. I have to yell for that, and I rarely get emotional enough  _to_  yell.

Zexion shoots me a look. I ignore him.

"She looks  _exactly like you!_  At first I thought it was Xion with blonde hair, but  _she_  looks like Kairi-"

"Who's Xion?" I didn't really mean to interrupt her, and I didn't really want to ask, but actually I guess I really did want to ask or my mouth wouldn't have spoken for me. After I was left behind in Traverse Town, I burned every single photo I'd ever taken of my little group. I have Kairi etched into my memory, but a physical reminder would be nice, and am I a glutton for punishment or what?

"Oh, you'll meet her. She's Demyx's fiancee – she keeps him in line, more or less. They're so weird, because they never talk about each other, but they're so  _cute_  together."

I shrug and attempt a smile. I'm pretty sure I fail. "Thanks, Yuffie. I'm going to find him and say hi."

And possibly stare at his girlfriend. Just a little bit, though. I don't want to come across as some sort of creep, and...well, I don't know if I could handle looking at someone who really  _does_  look like her, now that I think about it. I'm pretty sure it would be like being haunted. I wonder what Kairi would say about me now.

I bet she'd hate me. I'm not the girl she used to know.

"Your  _twin,"_  Zexion says quietly, following me through the throbbing house. I don't know how Demyx even  _found_  enough people to have a party like this, but people in Traverse Town are kind of like cockroaches; one big 'family,' quick to hide when you shed light on them, and impossible to completely get rid of.

"I...can't really explain that one logically," I admit. "Yuffie cornered me, and I panicked. I'm sorry."

Wait, what? I'm  _sorry?_  I'm not. I'm  _not._  I just...swear to god, I'm a fucking lunatic.

Dryly, he says, "Of course you are."

Fucker.

I ignore his crack and tell him, "Demyx is probably going to be in the kitchen, so we-"

I can't finish that sentence. In fact, I can't breathe. I can't move or think or anything. That girl standing by Demyx...

I can't forget the last time healthy Kairi and I hung out. We were alone at the mall, looking for a birthday present for Sora. She had her hair parted to one side, hanging loose around her face. I didn't like her outfit; she had a purple skort and a white tank top just barely covering her body, which I didn't want anybody else to see, and her black raincoat made it all look terrible, especially with her hair color. But I didn't say anything, because I'd suddenly started to wonder how she could possibly like me at all. Me. Naminé. The ghost.

I didn't say anything because I didn't want her to  _stop_  liking me.

This girl – I have to assume it's Xion – is like a dark Kairi, hanging off the wrong blond. I suddenly can't help but wonder how they met, what attracted them to each other, if Demyx recognizes what might pass for Kairi to anyone but someone with a memory like mine.

Y'know, whatever. Whatthefuckever. I shouldn't care. I  _don't_  care. Kairi's dead anyway. Why should I  _let_  her haunt me?

Instead of focusing on that traitorous new thought, which I like far too much to dispute with myself, I let my mind relax and take in what Demyx and Xion are talking about. I can hear from here – I guess one thing I picked up from my dad is a good sense of hearing. Mine's just definitely not as cool as his.

"Azal totally changed my life," the small blonde is saying. I don't know who she is, or where she came from, but I already hate her guts. Anybody who worships  _Azal –_  and I can recognize that fawning tone with my eyes shutting out the facial expression – deserves to be shot. Really, it's mercy. Azal-the-not-poet fucks with people who aren't immune to stupidity.

"Azal," the brunette replies, mocking in her voice. I  _never_  heard that tone in Kairi. Xion is okay, I guess. "She's a hack who made bank on accident and now she thinks she's a goddess."

"And you people go along with it," Demyx adds. It's fucking weird, actually, because isn't this his party? Isn't she his guest? Why would he be antagonizing a guest? It's amusing as hell, but that's not really the point.

The girl looks completely affronted, which I expected. Another girl looks extremely uncomfortable, which I also expected. If my calculations are correct, this is the part where Demyx and Xion get a tongue-lashing.

"How could you  _say_  that? Azal is a genius! Her writing is  _so amazing_  and...I mean, did you read her novel? Her poetry is already beautiful, but her book was even better!"

"Better at being trite and alarming," Xion tells her. Is that hostility I hear in her voice? That's pretty fucking weird. Also awesome, I guess, but...I just don't get it. Sure, I think Azal is a hack who shouldn't be allowed to talk in front of this many people, and I am pretty scared of the way people defend her, but I'm not... _I'm_  only annoyed because it's stupid.

"You know what? I'm  _leaving,"_  says the blonde girl, turning quickly and marching out of the room angrily. Hah. People can be so ridiculous.

"Well done Xion," Demyx says with a grin.

"We don't accept outsiders, do we?"

"At least not the ones who force themselves on us."

"So true, so true."

I feel Zexion shift beside me. I know he's itching to know  _what the hell is going on,_  as am I, but I wouldn't know how to approach the situation and Zexion is out of his territory. He's being careful. It's silly, because this is Traverse Town, but it's still true.

I watch Xion again. It's like a morbid twisting of Kairi's image. They could be sisters, maybe.

She stands stoic beside Demyx. His hand is on her shoulder and her leg is behind his, and I'm reminded of those sluts in movies. It's not that I think she's a slut; it's just the Slut Pose. I wonder if she knows. Is it on purpose? Does she even know?  _Is_  she a slut?

No, she can't be. She's leaning into him slightly, and it's like he's the only person in the room as far as she's concerned. The rest of us are all just window dressing. I remember hearing someone comment that we're all just God's puppets; I don't believe in God, but I bet that's more or less how it is in her head. Demyx is real, but we're all just puppets. I wonder what it would be like to be a puppet. For that matter, I wonder what it would be like to believe in God. I'd like to, just to see how it feels, but I guess I'm too smart for that.

Whoa, Naminé. Focus.

"H-hey, Demyx..." Dammit. I wonder if it's Xion making my voice act up, or if it was going to happen anyway.

"Hey! Hey Xion, this is Naminé, that girl I told you about. Naminé, this is Xion. We're getting married. Who's your friend?"

That...was fast. I'm impressed. "This is...Zexion. He's from T-twilight Town."

"Delighted to meet you," Zexion intones. Pfft. Delighted, my ass. He's such a charmer, though. Swear to god, he could get the devil to dance for him, if such a being actually existed. I could believe in the devil if I could believe in God, which would mean I could believe in heaven where Kairi would surely be if it existed, and I'd have a penthouse apartment in hell so I'd never see her again. Why am I even entertaining this line of thought? I can't force myself to believe in anything, and anyway, I'm pretty sure I just decided to force her memory down. Fuck Kairi, I died when she did. I don't want our ghosts haunting me, for reals.

"Likewise." Demyx gives Xion a look and I wonder what it means. Couples In Love always have signals, usually without even realizing it. "What do you think of Traverse Town?"

"I'm intrigued. I've never seen community dynamics like these before."

"Well, there's a reason everybody wants out, you know, and it really has nothing to do with the size of the town."

What are they even talking about? Zexion hasn't shared his musings with  _me,_  even, but Demyx seems to know exactly what he's saying.

"Oh, but that's precisely the part which interests me. The widespread reluctance is the crux of the issue, but somehow, they function as a society. It's as though the size is the reason they don't kill each other."

Xion rolls her eyes and whispers to me, "Boys are morons, aren't they? It's nice to meet you. Demyx told me about your project, but I'd heard of your disappearing act before I knew who you were. Would you like something to drink?"

"It's...nice to meet you, too."

"Are you sure about that?" I think she's teasing me, but her voice has an odd pitch I can't identify. "What about the drink?"

"...the least amount of effort possible." Well, there goes Demyx, describing his life's philosophy.

"How do you  _live_  like that?"

"The better question is, how do you  _not?_  Life's not great, but I make it that way. When I do have responsibilities...well, I'm not fond of it, but at least I'm not so busy as to make them perpetual chores."

Xion rolls her eyes. "And to think I'm marrying this guy."

I don't respond. I mean, what am I supposed to say? Don't marry him? Go for it? Ask her what she means? I figure she finds him endearing. That's what her tone and stature suggest, anyway. Love? Well, I guess I believe in love most of the time, but I don't believe in marriage. Fuck marriage, it ruins lives. That's why good divorce attorneys are such hot commodities.

Zexion's eyebrows only furrow, which is...slightly odd. But only slightly. He doesn't seem all that irritated, and I  _know him._  If he's irritated, it's with Demyx's philosophy; maybe Zexion doesn't really like to get his hands dirty, but I know he values a job well done. He's even kind of a perfectionist. To meet someone who'd rather be a bum playing music than a successful,  _working_  man just freaks him out big time. It's why I wanted them to meet in the first place.

Apparently, though, Zexion has more self-control than even I thought. I'd be disappointed, if it weren't for Dark Kairi being so close to me. I would really like to shove her away, but I know I won't. If I did, I'd probably cry, and I wouldn't even be able to explain it.

"I...I'd like something, yes."

"Come on, then," she says, giving me a weird look. So okay, I sorta took forever to answer. But I was distracted! And, I wasn't sure I could take it. I can, though. I  _so_  can.

I follow her away from Zexion and Demyx – hopefully, they'll start arguing or something – and I watch her ass as she leads me to the makeshift bar. Hey, she has a nice ass, it's a compliment! Really. I hear the front door open again and –

Fuck. Just, fuck.

"Marluxia," Xion calls, waving him over. Not  _her,_  too!What is it with these people and Marluxia? Is he trying to take over? Pfft, they  _do_  call this the World that Never Was. He could rule everybody and still rule nobody. An entire town full of nobodies.

I see Larxene on his arm, and...

Yeah. I bolt. I even feel kinda bad leaving Zexion there, but he'll find his way home. It's not like I'm going to take his car. I'd rather flee into the woods like a drama queen, which I kind of am anyway. I don't know if I will, because...ugh. I don't know. I'm really stupid, because what would happen? It's not the end of the world. Zexion needs me to guide him home. He needs me. I...

I know, I'm a pussy. I  _know this._  I'm still not going back.


	11. Perfect By Nature

Zexion's eyelashes are long.

I've never really seen what the deal is, with watching people sleep – it seems really creepy, and it's not as though you can divulge a person's inner secrets that way. Sleeping isn't even a particularly attractive action. But I'm watching him sleep, and I can't help it.

Last night was weird. Seriously fucking weird.

After the party I came home and more or less barricaded myself in my room, and to be honest I kinda expected him to be pissed and maybe hit me or something. He's not really the hitting kind of guy, but...I guess I hoped he would. I was so stupid last night. I didn't even understand what I was running from. I still don't.

But he didn't hit me. What he did wasn't really any different, though. When he stares at you like that – swear to god, it's like he knows you. Knows you, hates you, will kill you. Maybe it isn't true. Maybe he's more talk than walk, because he doesn't like getting his hands dirty. Maybe he's my best friend. It's just the way it felt then, when he just stared at me, expecting me to explain myself.

Last night. I don't even remember what I said to him. The earth is breathing too hard. My eyes aren't even mine anymore, at this point...his face is a snapshot in my mind. The whole night is a series of Polaroids, and even though it's me, I am still just an observer.

Snap:  _all hope abandon, ye who enter in._  Snap:  _Yuffie._  Snap:  _Roxas, Axel._  Snap:  _Demyx, Xion._ Snap:  _Kairi._  Snap:  _Demyx, Zexion._  Snap:  _Xion._  Snap:  _Larxene, Marluxia._  Snap:  _night sky._  Snap: _dirt, twigs._  Snap:  _blood on my hands from bracing my fall._  Snap:  _bedroom._

Snap:  _Zexion._

I remember yelling, and then sobbing. I don't show that side of myself, even to him. It just doesn't happen. Even when I  _want_  it. But last night. Last night, it all came rushing out. Kairi, Marluxia, Larxene. Xion. I think it ran together, and I'm not even sure if he understood me at all, because it shouldn't have happened like it did.

Snap:  _Zexion's lips on mine._

Swear to god, I'm so fucked up. There is no explanation for last night. I wish it hadn't happened. Maybe it won't change our relationship, but now it will always be there, hanging over my head at least. It will always be a thing of the past. It never should have been. Maybe sometimes I wish I could fall in love with him, but I'm  _not_  in love with him. Sex has nothing to do with love, but we didn't have sex. We – the kids say 'made out,' but that sounds terrible, and that act is much different. Kissing is closer to love than sex is.

What. The. Fuck.

Zexion's eyelashes are long.

I don't know why I keep coming back to that thought. I should be fixated on his lips maybe, or even trying to figure out how to fix this. It's all running through my mind, sure, but I can't let go of his eyelashes. They're on his cheekbones like paintbrushes and I'm dreading the part where he wakes up and they've painted nothing.

Nothing has changed. I just don't know why. I'm pretty sure it's a good thing, so why am I upset? This is nothing like Marluxia. When Marluxia and I...well, it was different. I woke up second, met eyes with him, and  _knew._  I never meet people's eyes, and he was aware of that, but he wouldn't look away. I  _knew_  something had changed. And now...

Fucking hell. I can't even...I'm barely even breathing. Not on my own. Everything's fuzzy and I'm melting into the scenery, being sucked into whatever entity makes the world breathe. I'm falling apart and his eyelashes are  _so long._

I can't deal with this right now. I won't.

I'm going back to sleep.


	12. Can't Do Nothing Right

"I'll see you when you get back to Twilight Town."

This is all wrong.

"Yes...I'll, I...I'll call you then. You can tell me what happened with Fuu. Or, you could...y'know...you could call, if you need me..."

This. Is. Wrong. At this point, he should already be gone. He should be history. I should have thrown him away, but I didn't. Am I so desperate here? Why can't I just push him out of my life? I'm good at that. It's my best talent, pushing people away. He shouldn't be any different, especially after last night. Intimacy only causes problems. You should never kiss the same person twice. People who have relationships...who have bonds...are stupid. Weak. And this is  _wrong._

True story: I never wanted to kiss him, even a little bit, before last night. It's not that I find him repulsive. I just barely even considered anything remotely sexual.

"Okay." And he's letting me let him go, like he has faith in me or something. He should know better. Maybe he does; maybe he's as eager to get me out of his life as I am to get rid of him. Maybe he's banking on the fact that I won't call.

Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Well. Fuck it. I don't care anyway. People are stupid, and I detest them all. He's walking away and I don't care. He's driving away and I don't care. I'm pretty sure I decided not to care when  _Kairi_ went away. The point is to become a zombie, right? Find good brains, prey on the weak, throw away those pests some people call 'emotions.' Should I care? Nah. Never kiss the same place twice. Like lightning, or some shit.

I wave, even though he's already turned and he couldn't possibly see me. I feel like the fucking red balloon, all floaty and free. Actually, I feel like I'm fucking  _wasted,_  the way my cheeks suddenly feel like they're going to explode; other people just hold you down, and besides, it's all my fault anyway. If I hadn't kissed him he wouldn't have kissed me back and I would have continued to  _let_ him drag me down.

I'm awesome today. I really am. I love epiphany days; I get that tingly feeling, where my head is huge and my body is tiny and I'm being sucked down a tube, only not. The floaty balloon feeling. I can tolerate the earth breathing, and I can breathe underwater, and I could break hearts if I wanted, because I'm just pretty much  _made_  of awesome. Maybe I  _will_  break a heart or two. Fuck people.

Just. Fuck people. They're all smelly and  _human_  and they all deserve to die.

"Lookin' rather perky for someone who just said goodbye to their best friend," Axel says from behind me. When did he sneak up? I should have noticed him. Well, whatever.

"Friendship takes many forms," I return. My voice does its stupid shaking thing. It's not that I actually care this time, because I just...feel good. I'm good. I'm a balloon and the world is bright and wonderful. Fanfuckingtastic.

"Well...Roxas and I are getting breakfast." When I turn and look at him, he's giving me his charm grin. It sends a chill of horror down my spine and I return it, horror factor on high. He blinks. "Do you want to come?"

"I'd love to!" Not. "Just...let me get my wallet."

As I pass him, I brush him lightly with my left shoulder. I'd rather do it with my left forearm, but he's a giant, and it would be much less effective. I hear him make a noise behind me, and I can't decipher it, but...to be honest, I just don't care what it means. He's annoying.

Bonus point: Roxas passes  _me_  in the foyer, and his eyes linger on my shoulder for longer than strictly necessary. I'm actually kind of surprised, since he's so fucking obtuse.

I can feel the heavy material of my jeans rubbing my legs and I don't let on, even to the empty staircase, that I'm annoyed. Well, not so much annoyed as  _really anxious,_  which makes no fucking sense so 'annoyed' is better. If my jeans are rubbing like that, then I've lost more weight and Zexion will –

Oh yeah. I won't be seeing Zexion again. That means I don't have to watch my weight, because there's nobody to give me hell about it. Maybe we should have had sex a long time ago. Still, I don't like the feel of this rubbing, so I'll have to buy new ones. Shopping...ugh, never mind. I'll just wear my Kairi skirts. Lately I've been digging them anyway.

I nearly run into my dad at the top of the stairs, but I twist to avoid him. I try to avoid speaking to him, but hey, nobody can do everything perfectly, even on balloon days. Not that I'm cool with that, but I feel too good to really care about perfection.

"What's got you so fired up?"

Ah, Dad. Poor guy. If he doesn't ask, he'll never know anything. I should feel bad about this, probably, but...nah. I don't. Why feel bad, anyway? It's useless. People should know by now that humans are a crappy species and also should know to never expect anything but selfishness.

"I'm going to breakfast with Roxas and Axel," I tell him. I try to give him a smile, but my cheeks already hurt so I'm not sure if it gets across very well. He looks away quickly, so I'm guessing it didn't. Whoops.

"Oh, well...have fun, then."

"I will."

I leave him in the hallway. Sure, it's cold, but that's who I am. Cold. If he's not used to it now, he's just an idiot. I don't think he's an idiot, so he must be used to me. Also he never kicked me out, so he probably figures somewhere deep down, I care. Maybe I do on occasion, but those occasions are when I'm being stupid, so they don't count.  _This_  is what counts. This feeling. This tiny-body, balloony feeling.

Also my wallet. I love my wallet. It's made entirely out of duct tape. I've had it since Marluxia and I were still bosom friends, or whatever.

"Don't leave without me," I call, practically thundering down the stairs. I know they won't leave without me, but I felt like saying it. It's stupid, but whatever. Who cares? Not me. I don't even care if they  _do_  leave without me. It's not like I care about  _them._  I feel too good to care. I just have a Plan – nay, a Plot.

I'm such a terrible person. Just the thought of it makes me shake a little, and I have to hide my mouth behind my hands when I see Roxas and Axel so I don't burst with laughter.

"Hey," Roxas says warily. My legs shake.

"Hey," I reply. My voice is fairly steady, which is a plus.

Axel gives me a weird look and adds, "We're going to Marly's. Are you up for it? Roxas finally told me-"

"It's fine." I'm not going to eat anyway, so who cares if I'm going to see Marluxia? Who cares? Not me. "The food is good."

Or so I'm told.

"All right...?" Poor Axel. If only he knew what kind of person I really am.

A  _bitch._


	13. I Am Heaven-Sent

Fucking candy hearts.

That's what dreams are made of. Sugar, water, pretty pink stupidity, and a bunch of things that really aren't good for you. Candy hearts, like the ones that threw up all over the walls of this place. Even if I come here a million times, I will never get used to the stupid candy hearts. It's good that I feel too good to care, because otherwise I might get a little homicidal and that's just...a downer.

I see Olette being mobbed by a group of kids, and I put my hands over my mouth again. Waterfalls, waterfalls. I'm beautiful and beyond amazing, but I still hate my voice. Some things you just can't ever escape.

This crowd is kinda ridiculous. They're the sort you find at poetry slams and drum circles and those weird little new-age classes that teach you how to meditate and find your inner...something. These kids are all about Inner stuff. Very introspective and pretentious and totally full of bullshit. I guess they come here because Traverse Town has no coffee shops for them to be artsy  _in,_  and heavy French food really just isn't conducive to creativity. Goddamn, I hate this town. Makes for some amusing sights, though.

She finally gets to us and gives us a sort of harried smile. I guess it's nice, objectively. I feel my head get a little lighter. "Hey, guys, it's good to see you again. Table for three?" Roxas nods and she continues, "Come right this way. You're in luck; we just cleared a table."

"Hey, we  _are_  in luck," Axel says, nudging my side. I refrain from glaring, because that would be pretty counterproductive. Instead I nod and smile like a moron, which I am on occasion, but whatever. I  _like_  being a moron.

...Or not.

"Very," I tell him, ordering the corners of my mouth up and wiggling closer just a little. I don't even know why the fuck I'm doing this, except that it feels like a fun thing to do and I don't exactly want this feeling to go away. I mean, seriously, I like being all balloony and fun. I'm a tiny package full of fun. A tiny package of candy hearts, waiting to make you sick, sick, sick.

Roxas scowls in my direction. I wonder what he's thinking; it's clear he's not actually upset. I bet he's just confused, as usual.

I sit by Axel and try to smile at Olette – goddamn, my cheeks are sore – but I think I fail because she gives me this bewildered look like I just started babbling. I rarely babble though, unless it's in my head which really doesn't count because  _I_  understand it.

"I...uh," she says helplessly. What. The hell. Do I even care?

Nah.

"May I, bring you something to drink?"

I'm pretty sure Axel's ordering something and I'm almost positive Roxas is going to order coffee (he's so predictable), but I can't listen. It's like, her face is in my face, in my head. That little stutter is making me feel bad, but I don't know why. I don't  _want_  to feel bad. I think I should hate Olette now.

"Water," I say. I always order water, everywhere. Water is good for you, no matter if you're animal, vegetable, mineral, or other. I don't know what that category entails. Is there something else? Maybe aliens. Do aliens need water? How does one go about finding out such information?  _Why the fuck am I even thinking about this?_

"I'll...get those out to you," she says, and leaves so fast I'd wonder if she's some kind of superhero...if I was gullible, or a moron. Or both.

Turning to Roxas, I ask, "What's her problem?"

"How should I know? I haven't seen her in a long time." He scowls. "The better question is, what's _your_  problem?"

Ha. Thinks he's picked up on a  _problem?_  Poor Roxas, so alone in his mega-obliviousness. I'd probably try to help him, except he's funny when he misunderstands things. Also, let him think I have a problem. I don't care. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Well, I don't. I'm totally being honest.

"I don't either, but there's  _something_  going on, and it's annoying me." Whoa. So he's gotten a little more blunt over the years, if that's possible.

"Can't I just be in a good mood?"

"No. Your good moods don't end well for me. And you're  _not_  in a good mood."

Well, fuck you, and your little sidekick, too. He's such an asshole. I'd respect him, if he did it on purpose. As it is now, I find it a little pathetic.

Damn. I wish he'd stop glaring, because...well, Roxas is pretty much gorgeous when he does that, and that really disturbs me because I'm pretty sure we're related. Family shouldn't be gorgous, ever. We're something cousins something removed, anyway, and okay, maybe he's an alien, but still.  _Ew._

"What's with the hostility, Roxas? That's my sister-in-law you're glaring at."

What. The. Fuck. Swear to god, Axel's so retarded. From the look on Roxas' face, I can assume he agrees with me. But I bet Roxas doesn't know he's trying to lighten the mood – he thinks he's all sneaky, playing stupid, but I know better. He's a loser for doing it, which kinda makes him stupid by default, but still...wait, does that even make sense?

Whatever. I don't have to make sense. I'm above such nonsense.

"No it isn't," Roxas says.

Axel looks at me and rolls his eyes with this weird expression on his face, like  _see what I have to put up with_  except not in a mean way. Yeah, 'weird' is the right word. I raise my eyebrows at him – I can't raise only one, like I think Zexion can (his hair is always in the way, so I can't be positive about it) – and shrug. "Look, you're being dumb. There's no problem, okay? There is nothing wrong."

...Now that I've said it, it seems like there  _is_  something wrong. That's not good, because there really is nothing. Maybe it's just because whenever Roxas notices something, it's usually true and very, very obvious. I'm all thrown now.

I scoot closer to Axel and touch his upper arm, the one with the old injury, with my hand. Roxas scowls more and Axel looks at me like I'm totally wacky. Hah. I'm not wacky, just awesome. In a playful tone – or as close as I can get with my retardedly misty voice, anyway – I say, "And you, Axel. I didn't know you cared."

"What the-"

"Scoot over," Larxene says from beside me – oh god.  _Larxene._  She's here now? I feel something in my stomach like giant birds, both tickling and hurting my stomach at the same time. Weird. I look over and see Axel scoot as far away as possible. He looks panicked. Do...do they know each other?

"Hey, Larx," Roxas says tightly.

Her response, "Why hello, Roxie," makes me grin. Like it comes all on its own.

I nudge Axel a little as I scoot over – might as well let her in, or she'll probably sit on me or something – and whisper, "Roxie. S-sounds kinda f-fitting, doesn't it?" Okay, my voice is once again totally retarded. Wonder if it's because she's here. Like I'm not used to talking to her?

"Nah, I can't see it," he says, now looking uncomfortable. I can feel Larxene's pretty eyes on me. I don't know if that's why he's uncomfortable or if it's because of me, but either is good. For some reason, I really like watching him squirm. Maybe that's how I show affection?

Nah.

I look at her and she leans close. Instinctively, I lean away, probably because my body thinks she'll bite me or something. She's a predator, I can tell. I'm smaller, probably weaker, and too balloony to care, so of course my body's being stupid.

"It's the little witch, way in over her head. How...cute," she whispers in my ear.

"I...I, what?" How articulate I am! And smooth! I should go into politics. I notice Axel and Roxas looking at us curiously, and I'd like to push away Larxene but it's kind of...impossible. For some reason even though my body's telling me to get the fuck away, I don't want to  _be_  away. Fun times.

"Don't think I don't see what's going on here. I know their type, girlie, and I know yours." She taps my nose with her forefinger and shakes it in time to her much louder singsong words. "It's not going to happen."

"I d-don't...know what you...mean?" Yeah, questions when it should be statements. Story of my life. Why is my fire gone? Where's the balloon feeling? Dammit, Larxene has ruined my high.

She grabs my chin – holy  _fuck,_  I'm going to have a bruise tomorrow – and says, "Let me give you some advice, little girl.  _Don't._  You're out of your league. As much as I'd  _love_  to see you fall..." She winks. I feel violated. My whole body shivers and my nerves sparkle and my lungs pretty much die. "Nobody else gets to push you."

Even feeling the stares of our companions, I can't help but collapse a little. Was that...a declaration of ownership? Do I even want it to be?

...What the fuck. I  _do._

Swear to god, I'm about to burst.


	14. Boyfriend Who Looked Like A Girlfriend

I feel quiet. Quieter than I've felt in years. I still have that stupid smile plastered on my face and I'm still in this noisy restaurant with noisy people and a goddess sitting next to me, but I...it's like everything I was feeling just disappeared. Like it was all a lie. Like she  _took it from me_  when she touched my face like that.

My jaw hurts. The earth is creeping up, breathing closer, and my jaw hurts. I feel Axel's side against mine and my jaw hurts.

My jaw fucking  _hurts._  How did she get hands that strong?

Actually. I don't want to know.

I know it's only been a few seconds, but it feels like it's been hours. She popped my balloon, deflated me so fast I don't even know how it happened. This kind of control over me is unacceptable, but what can I do? Run away? I don't know where I'd go. Twilight Town has Zexion, who I can't face, and I've never been anywhere else. God, my heart hurts like fuck. Why?

Let's review, Naminé.

I've interacted with Larxene only a few times. She's beautiful and sensual and she knows how to push my buttons. She speaks French, probably fluently if she's reading de Sade – and she  _reads_ him, so she's probably kinky, too. She's dominant and flippant and she makes me quake in my fucking boots and apparently, she's observant too. If I'm honest with myself, these are all good things.

Still. I've only interacted with her a few times. There's no possible way I could have, you know, _feelings_  for the bitch. Oh yeah, add that last to the list. She's a bitch.

There's no way I could have developed 'feelings' for her in this amount of time, and yet...I feel like I have. Maybe it's a crush. I've never had one before, so it's kind of new territory. I guess I can accept that, for now. I have a crush on Larxene.

...I have a crush on Larxene.

Oh god, take me to the loony bin. Lock me up and throw away the key. I can't even look at her anymore. What was I thinking, all  _accepting_  this and stuff? I'm clearly not sane. Or maybe Marluxia _is_  trying to take over Traverse Town, and he put something in the water. And maybe since I'm _apparently_  a lesbian (I've never actually  _liked_  a guy before, only slept with them), the water made me choose the one closest to him. Maybe she's in on it.

Okay. Maybe I'm just panicking.

"Uh...what was that?" That look on Roxas' face...poor guy. He's always so clueless. I think Axel gets it, or got it, or maybe I'm just really bad at being, you know, bad. Outwardly. I mean, I don't kick puppies or feed rocks to children or anything. I'm a bitch, but maybe I'm not a bad person like I thought.

Pfft. That one's clearly an insane thought.

"Just a joke between old friends. Isn't it, Naminé?"

I can't look at Larxene except peripherally and I feel like a total loser doing it, so I look at Roxas instead. "Yes. Just...a thing."

Right. Because that made sense and everything.

"Old friends, huh?" Is it just me, or does Axel sound...jealous? No...that's not the right word. What the fuck. "I might believe that if you were  _capable_  of having friends."

When I chance a glimpse at her, her eyes are narrowed in this really sexy way. He looks evil. Ooh, bitch fight. I may be in inordinate amounts of inexplicable chest pain, but this is still getting good.

"You're still upset about that? Honey, I'm sorry, but you weren't woman enough for me."

"Well, you weren't  _man_  enough for  _me."_

"Guys, I-" Okay, now I'm going to have  _another_  bruise soon, because she just pinched me. With nails and everything.  _God,_  that's good. Wait, that the –

"G-go on," I say meekly. Yes, go on, so I can pretend I'm not an  _absolute freak._  Also so you won't notice.

"That's my girl," Larxene says snidely. I want to kick her. Or kiss her. Or kill her, for making me feel so weird. That's a lot of K. K for kindergarten and kid and kitten and kitchen and Kairi – dammit. Distracting myself: not an option.

"Oh, so  _she's_  your girl now?"

"You saying  _you_  want her, after telling me I'm not man enough for you? It's because of my tits, isn't it? They're too big, aren't they?" Why is she pretending to be hurt? I look at Roxas, who looks...like he's about to explode. Not with anger, or jealousy. No. With  _laughter._

What.

"She's an  _innocent,"_  he says dramatically. "I'll protect her from you with my  _life."_

This is where Roxas totally loses it. I have to stare at him, laughing so hard his face is turning red. "S-stop," he says through waves. It sounds like he's  _begging._  "Oh god, stop!"

His laughter is infectious – probably because it's like a once in a lifetime privilege to even hear it. I feel myself laughing, but I don't hear it. Probably because it's silent laughter. I can feel Larxene shaking on one side and Axel shaking on the other and I'm really...really confused. At least I'm shaking with laughter now instead of that...sensation I refuse to name.

Axel leans over a little and says to me, "Once upon a time, Larxene was my lesbian lover."

"I met them at a party," Roxas says, still laughing. "It was when I went to Hollow Bastion for that choir thing. Luxord told everybody we were going to the bus, but we skipped out and went to a party instead."

Ah. That must be the reason he got kicked out. I always wondered about that. I'm just kind of awed. I thought Roxas was a fairly good kid.

"Lea saw Roxas and fell in love right there," Larxene says, fake sadness in her voice. "That meant I had to fend off that pervy stalker alone after that. I'd thought after  _proving_  my undying lesbianism to him it would make him realize I'd never go for him, but...well, Lea didn't do her job very well, especially since she left me for a boy  _three years her senior."_

Suddenly Axel stops laughing and says quietly, "I'm not a girl."

"Well, you were back then," she says airily. "He eventually went away when I got another girlfriend anyway, so I'll pretend to forgive you."

Roxas' laughter gets quieter and it's kind of sad, because he was drawing weird looks. I love it when people think others are weird. "I always forget why you annoy me," he admits.

"Oh, I'll be happy to remind you. It's because deep down in your cold, uncaring heart, you're still attracted to me and you'll never have me. Either that, or you have a thing against girls who like other girls," she says viciously.

"Yes, it must be that," he agrees. "Homosexuality is wrong, Axel. Those who practice must be punished."

"Ooh," Axel says, and I can hear something in his voice I'd rather not hear. "Can I be first?"

Okay. Firstly, ew. Secondly,  _ew._  Thirdly, "You're really a lesbian? But what about that night...me, you, the garden, Marluxia...you kissing Marluxia..."

She's looking at me like I make no sense, and maybe I don't. "Um, what garden? And I wouldn't kiss Marluxia if my life depended on it. He's some kind of creepy incarnation of Poison Ivy, and it would probably kill me."

"Oh," I say, my voice very small. "I guess it  _was_  a dream."

"You  _dream_  about me, sugar?" She sounds smugly pleased, and the thing is, I think she may have a right to be. I'm very irritated by that. "I'm flattered."

"D-don't be," I say. I shrug and add, "It was a...weird dream. It started with Marluxia throwing rocks...at my window...and ended with crying about K-kairi."

Oh god. I just said her name. I just  _said her name._  Roxas looks at me like he just discovered I'm some kind of new species and it makes me feel very, very small. I miss feeling balloony, I really do. I'd take it out on the problem, except she'd probably kill me, and I'm only fifty percent sure I'd enjoy it.

"Well, now I feel all unspecial," she tells me, but it sounds...off. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings or anything. I'm not going to say I'm sorry, because that would be retarded, but there's really nothing else to say. She looks at her watch and makes a hissing noise. "Damn, I'm gonna be late for work if I don't get out of here. Oh and Axel, tell your sister to stop picking on me."

Axel snorts, but doesn't say anything.

As she's getting up, Larxene asks, "Who's  _Kairi?"_  What? I don't like that tone. I don't know if she's being antagonistic or what, but  _damn,_  that stings.

"She's just...an old friend," I lie, looking at my hands in my lap. "It was just a dream."

Yeah. Figures I'd only cry like that in dreams.


	15. Things I May Have Taken For Granted

 

Axel's still sitting on my left and Roxas is still sitting across from us. I can still feel Larxene on my right, only she's not there. It's like she left an imprint on me, or I imprinted on her. Like a duck. Are you my mother?

Except.

I think I'm crazy attracted to her. I don't know exactly what that means, but I do know it's not like finding a mother. I think this...it must be a crush. I saw this kind of thing in school. What's worse – the fact that I'm acting like a high school girl, or the fact that my first crush  _is_  a girl? Probably the first. That I'm attracted to  _anyone_  after Kairi is practically against the laws of nature.

"I think she broke her," Axel says. Fucker. It's not like I  _can_  be broken, when half of me is still

It was her hair I noticed first.

I'd never liked red hair; it always made me think of pennies, which were really pointless and stupid. What could you use pennies for, except stretching them on the railroad tracks? But her hair was different. This red...it was like the stuff in my mom's glass inside. It was so pretty. I knew a red like that must be bad, because every time it came out of the bottle my mom started yelling about things, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to touch it.

It was her nose I noticed next. Crooked, a little. I thought it was neat because I'd never seen a crooked nose before. I wanted to see it up close, so I crept near her, but she heard me and stood over me.

With the setting sun behind her, outlining her like fairies or halos, I finally noticed her smile. It made me feel

"Hey, sorry about the wait," says Olette. Fuck, what am I even doing?

"It's no problem," says Axel. He bats his eyelashes like a moron.

"Stop being an idiot, it makes me look bad," she tells him. I want to draw her in this pose – slightly chastising smile, hands on her hips, leaning over just a little. I've kept that pose in my heart since

I see you. That's what she said. What's your name?

I told her I'm Naminé, it's nice to meet you. I kept trying to look in her eyes and failing, because of the light and because they were so blue and because I could never look anybody in the eye. I was too shy, and then I didn't want to. I was afraid she'd see inside me and know I got in trouble a lot and I poured orange soda in my mom's window box to make her flowers die and in secret I went back and kicked the man who hurt Sora. I was afraid she'd know what I did to make him go away and

"You're my sister. It's my job to make you look bad," he replies. Wait, what?  _She's_  his sister? Well...I guess it makes sense, kinda. At least what Larxene said makes sense. And I guess...I guess it wouldn't matter if they  _weren't_  related, they'd probably know somebody who knew somebody, you know? This town...practically doesn't exist. Everybody here knows somebody on the outs, but it's so small that we know each other and maybe those people on the outs are connected in some way too. It's like a net.

"Well, you don't have to do your job. You didn't do your  _chores,"_  she says reasonably. "Anyway, are you guys eating or just having coffee this morning?"

"Probably just coffee," says Roxas. "We're having an early lunch with  _Mary."_  Whoa. By the sound of that name, Mary must be a very irritating obligation. Either that, or he's got a wedgie. I'm pretty sure it's the first, though.

She took my hand in hers and I felt something sticky. I knew it was jelly, since I saw some on the crumb-covered paper plate she threw away. I didn't tell her about the jelly, because nobody ever held my hand. They thought I was weird because I only sat and drew at recess instead of playing on the slide with the other kindergarteners.

Come on, she said. Come on! I have a secret to show you. I can't tell Sora cuz he'll tell Riku and it will be too many people with me and you and them, but I want to tell you. Come on! This water's not deep enough to drown, but you gotta stay on the rocks so your legs don't get wet.

It's called carambola, she whispered. My uncle's a chef and he told me.

And a planted tree on a fake island was the eighth wonder of the world, because we sat under the branches and held hands and shared the strange fruit shaped like a star. I wanted to steal her and keep her all to myself but

"I'll leave you to it, then." Olette begins to turn and then looks at me. "By the way, Marluxia asked me to make sure Larxene's not harassing you too much. He's swamped right now, or he'd probably find out himself..."

"She's...it's okay," I say. "We're friends, I guess."

Or something.

"Huh...you and Marly were friends before, right? I think that's why he's looking out for you. Usually he just lets her mess with whoever. Anyway, I've got to go. Orders to take, interest to fake, money to make. You know the drill. See ya."

...And this is where I just go  _huh?_  Because that was weird. Also because I have no idea what that even  _was._  Also. Larxene is not my friend, so why did I say she was? Jesus Herbert, Naminé, you're a retard, and pretty much incompetent in the ways of expression and interaction.

It was our thing, holding hands. She did it whenever she thought I looked lonely, or sad, or tired. Just holding her hand made me feel better. More energized, even. It was like she was pouring herself into me and I felt selfish because I wanted it. Wanted  _more._  I even wanted to kiss her and be  _her_  rock, but I couldn't because I could barely keep the tears out of my eyes.

Hey, she said. You didn't know better. I think you were really brave.

I'm not brave, I'm stupid. I looked at her and then looked away because I didn't like to see her frowning. I withdrew my hand from hers and buried it in my skirt. Now nobody's going to want me. And my hands...

Was it...awful? She tried to catch my gaze. I stared at my lap, but it only worked until she put her head there.

I wouldn't get out of the bath until my mom came in and spanked me, I told her. It was gross. Sometimes I wish I'd killed him instead of kicked him, even though I was only five.

Well, I'm glad you didn't; I think that would be harder on you. Murder's like...killing yourself and going to hell, only not dying. I love you no matter what – you know that, right?

Yeah, I said. I didn't ask why.

"-the eighth. We'll have to leave probably tomorrow, or the next day at the very latest."

I blink. It's so hard for me to keep up with this right now...it's like Kairi's name was a dam I broke or something. It's weird because I know all this. It's not like flashbacks or anything, because I knew it was there and I'm not reliving it and I don't  _know_  what this is, but it's bothering me because I never felt  _anything_  about remembering and now I do.

I can feel dirt in my lungs and a vise around my head and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. Everything's sideways and blurring around the edges, but something's breathing for me because I'm not hyperventilating or passing out. I'm just...not. Not here, not existing. Like my body's wishing it could be with Kairi but my brain's still here.

"I guess," Axel says. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm kinda liking it here. It's much more...laid back and easy to deal with."

"Yeah, well, regardless,  _some of us_  have jobs."

"And some of us can work anywhere. Behold the power of the laptop, Roxas."

I think I might laugh, if I could, but it's like...what's going on? What is this? Is this going on, even?

Axel shrugs and pushes me until I'm standing and he's out of the booth. "I have to piss. I'll be back – if 'Lette comes back, give her the ten, okay?"

He whirls without waiting for an answer and I'm afraid to sit back down, so I keep gripping the table and kind of slump over to brace myself.

Oh god, Naminé, oh god. Help, I'm...I'm gonna explode, oh god,  _help,_  my insides are  _eating_ themselves, call the doctor, oh god...

Kairi?

I'm dying, I swear I'm dying!

Okay, just...squeeze my hand, I'm calling emergency. Listen to my voice. I'm dialing now, I –

Naminé!

-is your emergency?

I don't know what's going on...Kairi, she's screaming...she's in a lot of pain. We're alone and I don't know what to do...I can get the address, just a min-

Don't leave me, Naminé! Don't let go, I'm dying, don't leave me.

"I can't keep up with him anymore," Roxas says quietly. "I'm failing. I think I'm going to get left behind, and I don't know how to stop it."

Through my surprise and struggle for normal breathing, I'm not strong enough to tell him he should get used to it – everybody leaves. Even when they tell you they never will.


	16. Love Isn't Lying

 

Tiana's Palace is this weird little pseudo-franchise that was started in New Orleans like a zillion years ago. I don't really like the food, but Xion was the manager until she and Demyx decided to go with Roxas and Axel, so we're here for lunch.

Well, it's better than fast food. Not that we have any fast food here besides Burger King, which is totally nasty, but still. Why am I even thinking about this? It's not like I'm going to eat anything anyway. My brain may be clearer than it was yesterday, but my stomach's still tying itself in big fat knots. Fucking retarded, if you ask me, but why would I ask myself anything? Goddamn.

Haha, you're a psycho.

"Where are they," Axel asks. I'm fairly certain it's hypothetical, since how would Roxas or I know? Also, I'm still trying to figure out what Axel's doing. Or is it Lea again now? Fucking weirdo. Out of Lea and Axel, I like Axel better – he's easier to deal with. But I'm wondering if maybe Lea's easier for  _Axel_  to deal with?

...What. Seriously.

"How should I know? I'm just the guy who came with you to visit your sister," Roxas says dispassionately. Eek. Something's got  _his_  knickers in a twist, and I have a feeling it has to do with Axel/Lea/whatthefuckhappened.

"Dude, I told you last night it's...not like that."

"You tell me a lot of things."

"Yeah, well-"

I have to stop paying attention. A: they're starting to annoy me. B: I'm distracted. Even through the window, I have to admire Marluxia's amazing hair. And physique. And...well, pretty much everything. I guess admiring him through a window is easier because then it's more like a zoo animal than an ex-everything.

The way he moves, man. It's like he's...well, he and Larxene deserve each other. The art part of me is screaming for them to stand together, god and goddess on the wrong side of Styx.

If they're gods, what does that make me? I guess...I'd be some kind of religious whore. People go nuts for love and God, and it's pretty much the same in this case, except...I'm fairly certain don't love either of them, and they're not  _actually_  gods, so where is this train of thought going anyway?

Naminé has left the station.

"Well, maybe it  _should be,"_  Axel hisses, and I'm yanked out of my admiring stupor. With a fantastic hiss like that, you'd expect there to be some...poison behind it, but he sounds kinda deflated. Like a snake that's been de-venomed or whatever. "I'm not going to lose you to some  _slut."_

"You lose  _me?_  What the  _fuck_  are you talking about?"

"I saw you there, at the party. And even before this, you looked at Larx more than you looked at me."

"Well, I look at her because she's pretty, but...wait, what about the party?"

Axel's voice deepens. "I saw that thing between you and that girl, You-something."

"What  _thing?"_  I look discreetly at Roxas. He looks irritated. I decide to look at Marluxia instead.

"She was flirting with you, and you were ogling her like some-"

Roxas' laugh is cold and sharp. "She was  _drunk,_  Axel. And, is 'ogling' code for talking to her?"

"Oh, don't play stupid, Roxas," Axel says.

"I don't play stupid – you should know that."

Peripherally, I can see Axel's head lower, like he wants to lie down or something. "What, you're saying that you  _are_  stupid?"

Roxas scoffs. "I'm stupid? Why don't you go set yourself on fire again and say that to my face?"

"That was fucking  _uncalled for,_  jackass."

Actually...why are they doing this here? I should probably stop them. Probably. I will.

"Yeah, well so is calling me stupid. I don't even know what you're  _talking_  about! Am I not allowed to speak for myself anymore? Do you think I'll mess up and make you look bad?"

...Or, I'll just watch Marluxia stretch like that.

"No! You – Roxas, you were checking her out! She had her goods all in your face and you were _responding!_  You were flirting with her, right in front of me, and...okay, maybe  _you_  didn't know what she was after, but I sure did, and...still, what – is she prettier than me? Did you get sick of being with a guy? Is that it?"

Also, is that why you're wearing a dress, you freak?

Roxas sighs, and suddenly sounds very tired. "Axel...you're the one who's being stupid. Yes, she is attractive, yes, she is prettier than you, and I'm pretty sick of you right now, because you're snapping at me and I hate that. But when I noticed her looks, I still went home with you. Isn't that supposed to mean something?"

Before Axel can say anything, I decide to step in – partly because I'm annoyed with their exchange, but mostly because Marluxia's not stretching anymore. He's just talking to the florist, which is really boring to watch because the florist is blocking my view.

"Guys, will you please shut up? We're in a restaurant. And you're...um, made for each other...anyway?" Yeah, that really was a question. Personally, I'd like it if they'd go away. Go back to Imperial City or wherever they live now. Or maybe Axel could die and Roxas could come live with me and nobody would be satisfied, and we'd fit into the world perfectly for once.

"Aww, how romantic," Axel says blandly. "Where'd that come from?"

"She was staring at Marluxia throughout our conversation," Roxas tells him. "I didn't know she was listening."

"I guess we  _were_  kinda loud." Axel shrugs. "And to answer your question,  _yes,_  it means something. I still don't know what, but..."

"I'm sorry." Roxas still sounds tired. "You're much better with people than I am. I thought I was being nice...sort of protecting you from her. She can be too energetic and I thought she was flirting with  _you._  I thought that was why you were uncomfortable."

"Whatever. Don't apologize, you'll make me blush or something. We were both wrong, blah-blah, and we  _never_  bring this up again because seriously, I don't like feeling like a total asshole. I only like  _looking_  like one."

"See," I say quickly. "All's well, as it should be."

"You just keep getting sweeter," Axel returns. "It's like you're a little candy heart."

"I suppose I'm a hopeless romantic," I say, water in my voice, and I ignore the burn. He didn't know that would hurt, and I'm not eager for another argument from this table.  _That_  would draw looks.

"She's like...Jane Eyre. Crawling back to the one she loves, even after they've fucked her over hard." Sometimes, I hate Roxas. I know he's not trying to be cruel, but  _goddamn,_  that was an insult. Plus, I've not crawled back to Marluxia, and...no, I didn't love him, so what's he talking about anyway?

"I am not! I may be a... _romantic,"_  I begin, trying not to make  _my_  feelings on the concept known because I know they'll make fun of me, "but I'm most definitely not  _that_  kind. Jane was a total retard."

Axel pats my head. I feel like knifing him. There really is no reason for this. "Course not. Have you _met_  Larxene? Our Naminé's the kind of sexy bitch romantic who chops up corpses and bakes them into pies."

"Well, that's flattering," I tell him flatly. The ookie part? I consider that an epic compliment.

Not that I'll ever tell  _them_  that.

True story: people called me Wednesday in middle school. Roxas always stood up for me. But I'm sure it was only because of the connotations – we were practically brother and sister, so if I was Wednesday, that made him Pugsley. Pfft. As if  _he_  could hold up during electrocution. Goddamn cupcake.

I didn't need him to stand up for me, anyway. I liked the nickname, and I  _liked_  the connotations. Wednesday is fucking  _awesome._

"Wait, what? Larxene?"

Oh. I'm in the middle of a conversation. Whoops.

"Well, who did you expect?"

"You  _were_  staring at him for a long time," he tells me in a tone similar to mine. Well, whatever. I don't have to explain myself to him. In fact, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear him and stare at Marluxia some more. I'm going to draw him tonight, so I want to refresh my memory.

...That's a lie. I can remember his face perfectly. I just want to stare. And no matter what Roxas says, it's not because I  _love_  him or some shit, and I'm not going to ever talk to him again so I avoid Jane Eyre Syndrome. I may not have very much willpower when he's involved, but I do have lots of it as long as he's  _not_  involved. I only want to stare at him because I don't want to look at Roxas or Axel. I don't want to talk to them, because they're a lesser picture. I want to work it so the 'light' in my drawing hits him  _just right,_  and...

"-and the next time that happens, I won't untie you." Oooookaaaay, I'm going to pretend Roxas _isn't_  the type to actually tie up Axel. Yeech. That's an absolutely shudder-inducing image. And not even the good kind of shudder.

"Well, I know you love me, because that time we blew up the-"

"We said we'd  _never discuss that,"_  Roxas says. He looks uncomfortable. In fact, I think he  _may_  be blushing. Okay, whatever I've said before doesn't count.

Axel is my  _hero._

I'm saved the embarrassment of blurting that out when from behind me Demyx says, "Have you guys been waiting long?"

"Long enough for an argument, but not long enough for make-up sex," Axel replies.

Mental. Images. Gross. Oh god, multiple references to double male anatomy. Make me  _heave,_ why don't you.

"Man, keep your bedroom shit to yourselves," he says, coming into view.

Xion follows with a small, slightly teasing smile. "Oh, no, please go on."

How about...not? Also, how am I supposed to choose what to do now? On the one hand, there's Marluxia outside bending over some weird plants in front of Blossom's. That's a totally retarded name, Blossom, but I still have to assume it's a name and the shop  _belongs to_  Blossom because otherwise the sign would be grammatically incorrect and if we're really that low as to allow that kind of thing I  _know_  the world has gone to the dogs and there's no chance of saving it now –

Uh. Marluxia on one side, Xion on the other. Xion looks like Kairi, Marluxia looks like himself. Kairi is bitterness and reflection and Bad Feeling (but very gorgeous and I think I might like her personality?); Marluxia is bitterness and familiarity and Weird Feeling (but also very gorgeous and I  _hate_  his personality, I think).

...I'll stare at the table. This is fucking weird, and anyway, Xion's got menus for us. That's cool.

I'm shoved against the wall a little when Xion and Demyx crowd into my side of the booth. I'd like to kick something, but I hold it in – I'm pretty good at that. Self-control is generally a...strength of mine, probably, unless I'm just imagining these urges and then I'm just a morbid freak. I'd like to think that's not the case, but if I'm honest with myself, I know it's very, very possible.

Guh. My mind's wandering.  _Again._  I, Naminé, do hereby swear to pay attention, or at least try to, because Roxas was kind enough to ask me to his going-away party thing.

"No,  _don't_  go on," Roxas says decisively – probably because he doesn't want his sex life advertised like processed food on television. Which is exactly how it would go down if he let Axel go, I'm sure.

"That sounds like a really good plan," Demyx says hastily. "Anyway, sorry about the wait. We were-"

"Having sex," Xion says. At the scandalized look Demyx gives her, she adds, "You were going to tell them we were caught in traffic, but they'd know it was a lie, so I'm saving you."

"How would we know," Axel asks slowly.

"Have you not  _seen_  this town?" Whoa, that came out of  _my_  mouth. It startles me into continuing, "Traffic comes but once a week – on the day that ends in  _f."_

"I know, but... _oh."_  For as smart as Axel is, he's such a moron. My head would have spun around completely when I heard he graduated from high school three years early, and had already gotten his associate's...but, you know, the whole head-spinning thing only happens in movies, or in really bad accidents resulting in death and dismemberment. Or murders.

"Maybe she didn't save you after all," Roxas says. There's laughter in his voice. Damn, I missed that.

"I'm extremely uncomfortable with this line of conversation," Demyx informs us. "Aren't we supposed to be eating, anyway?"

Axel opens his mouth. I kick him discreetly under the table. He looks at me like I've got green antennae. I look at him like he's an idiot.

Which he is.

"What do you want? I'll go tell them as soon as we're all decided." Aww, Xion. My heart's bleeding in gratitude. That tone was so...sweet. Almost like...uh. I'd like some water and some feel-better pills, stat.

I look out the window for a distraction – dammit, Kairi, stop  _haunting_  me – but Marluxia's gone. Now there's this brunette girl I've most definitely seen before talking to the...very unattractive florist. Whoa. I didn't notice  _that_  before.

Well, his back was turned. And anyway, who  _is_  that girl? I could swear I...

She turns so I can see more than just her ear and her not-red-anymore hair, and my heart drops like Virginia Woolf under the River Ouse. Oh, no.  _Hell_  no.

Fucking Justine.


	17. Watch Me As I Gravitate

 

I suppose my hiss of dislike or disappointment or whatever  _d_  word it is didn't go unnoticed, like I figured it would. They're all looking at me like I'm a total loser, so I feel the need to explain. "Justine's back in town...we don't...get along."

I'd be mad about my voice, but really, I'm sick of being mad at present. I'll be mad later, probably, because I'm always mad about something. Now that I think about it, that's kind of...bad. Or unhealthy, or something. I mean, I never  _professed_  to be good or healthy or any of those things, but still. My therapist told me too much anger can make things worse.

Well, whatever. She's probably a crack addict. There's no other way to explain her whacked out advice and diagnoses – come on, how could she think I'm all anxiety-ridden and anorexic? That's just insulting – and her reason for shivering all the time is total bullshit. Hypothalamic damage, my _ass._

Xion frowns and muses, "I don't like her."

"Only because she accidentally insulted you, and you took it personally," Demyx says as if in reminder. "She can't help the way she is."

"Justine...that's Lisa's daughter, right?" Roxas looks to me for confirmation. I nod, and he continues, "I didn't notice anything too terrible about her. Why doesn't anybody like her?"

Xion and I exchange glances. I'm sure mine says something along the lines of  _how do we answer that without getting too insulting,_  and hers says  _where to begin?_  Or maybe that's just me projecting. That's how Kairi's face would be read. Dammit, Xion, get a new face.

"Roxas," says Axel patiently, "you're very good at  _not_  seeing things. Justine is very obviously a lunatic."

Hmm. Maybe we're being unfair. I mean, if  _nobody_  likes her, then obviously there's something wrong with her, but...well, I wouldn't want people talking. Actually, that's a lie. I don't care. People can talk, and I'll hate them. We'll all have a grand old time. I'm only going to step in this once because out the window, I can see her walking this way.

"She's coming in here," I say gloomily. Though, with the watery stumble in my voice, it sounds more tragic than gloomy. Fail.

We hear a little bell tinkling and Xion sits up straight. "Guys, I need to go order food. Like now. Mind giving me your orders, and quick?"

Axel and Roxas order something to share – something I will  _not_  be watching – and I tell her I just want water, which isn't true. I  _want_  something salty, for some reason, but I know from experience if I eat with this feeling I'll throw up. Or at least I'll  _feel like_  I need to throw up, so I'll do it and save myself the trouble of waiting for it. I really hate the part where you're lying down on the bathroom floor, curled into a ball, waiting for that feeling in your throat to go one way or another.

God. And the world isn't even breathing. It's just me. Who says I'm fucked up?

Demyx gives me a weird look, but just says, "You know my usual." And I'm sure she does, because she worked here and they're engaged. Hell, I knew Marluxia's usual everything and we hate/liked each other.

Damn. It. Marluxia  _again._  I should very much like to kick the person who invented him. And also, what's with his name? I just realized how feminine and weird it is. Marluxia. Why did I not notice this before? And why am I still thinking about him? F-minus, Naminé. You're an imbecile.

Xion gets up and scurries – whoa, I do mean  _scurries –_  to the order station and when Justine comes around the corner, she gives me a weird tentative smile and raises a hand. She puts it down quickly when I don't respond, but I have to give her credit; her smile stays and she walks toward me even though we made an Agreement.

"Hello, Justine," I say tightly. "Why are you here?" Okay, so it's not the best greeting, or the nicest. But it's not the worst, or the meanest, so I'm good.

"For...I mean..." She throws a few strands of hair out of her face. "You know, love and eternal happiness and everything?"

"I guess," Axel says, giving her a dubious look, "you just can't stay away. Naminé's quite the catch, after all – don't you agree, Roxas?  _Quite_  the catch."

Justine shifts uncomfortably. "Um...actually, I'm here for the wedding-"

"Oh, I didn't know you were getting married!" He gives her a nudge and winks at me. "Congratulations to the happy couple."

I...am in awe. Oh, Roxas, you've captured a genius, and you'll never even know it. You probably don't want to; his specialty is being a moron. I have never seen such sagacious stupidity in my entire life.

Why is he not a politician? This is a serious question. I should ask him. But I won't.

"-plans," she finishes, now looking more uncomfortable than ever. I'd feel sorry for her, if I liked her at all, or at least didn't dislike her. "My mom's wedding?"

Wait, what? Her mom's getting married? It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the groom is my dad (so I won't have to ask Axel, which is a good thing because he'd probably laugh his guts out at me), but why didn't I know about this? Am I not his daughter?

Goddamn, this  _sucks._  I'm so far away that he doesn't even think to say  _hey, Naminé, guess what? I'm getting married! Pass the salt, will you?_  Way to stroke a girl's ego, Dad. Really.

"I didn't know Lisa had invited her daughter," Roxas says thoughtfully. "The wedding isn't until December."

...Wait. So Roxas knew? That means Axel knew, and his wink was more of an attempt at an inside joke. Who else knew? Am I just not  _good_  enough? Am I starting to disappear? Well, fuck that. If I disappear, I'm going to bring people with me. After death is just vast fucking darkness...they deserve that too.

I wish I had the conviction to back up my thoughts. I'm struggling against an immovable object, and I am not an unstoppable force,  _clearly._  Hell, Larxene stopped me with a word.

"I know," says Justine. "It's just that...my dad never married her. She spent so much time alone, thinking nobody would ever want her...she's excited about marrying such a good guy." In an almost apologetic tone, she adds, "She's already planning the colors and the dinner settings, and I'm in design, so she wants my help."

Really? Design? I didn't know that. Of course, I spent most of my time with her pretending to pay attention, so I probably just missed it. I notice she's not looking at me – I'd feel bad, except I don't feel bad. Bitch factor, and all.

Plus, I'm still sorta blown. I always knew our family wasn't big on communication, but now I'm wondering if it was just a thing between me and my dad. Like maybe he doesn't like me. Maybe we had such a peaceful existence because he was really ignoring me. Maybe he thinks I'm turning into my mom.

...Maybe I  _am_  turning into my mom. Love 'em and leave 'em Stacie, is what she was called after she left. And what have I done to my very best friends and my biggest supporters? Left them. I mean, they were going to leave me, eventually – I only got one up on them – because relationships are ephemeral and I'm really not worth the grief. Still. Maybe that's why she does what she does, too.

If this is the case, then I  _am_  a fuckup, and I deserve to be left in the dark. Maybe even left  _for_  the dark. Everything...I'm stupid. I don't care what Kairi said; she always wanted to think the best of people. I'm really, really stupid.

"Ah. I see." Here comes the awkward silence.  _Now_  I feel bad for Justine. I think she's stupid and annoying, and therefore I don't like her. What about me? I bet everybody's thinking the same thing. And I bet she knows it, too.

"I'm glad," I say. "Um...for...your mom."

What. I didn't mean to say that. And to be honest, I didn't mean that. At least, I don't think I did. I barely know Lisa at all; I know she's pretty and intelligent and earnest, but that's pretty much it.

"Thanks," she says warily. I suddenly realize –

"Hey," I say, turning to Roxas quickly. "I have a present for you...but then I have to leave. I want you to know I'm really glad I could see you again."

He stares at me. I ignore his disbelieving look and dig the red and silver charm out of my pocket. "It just...reminds me of you, I guess. And you, Axel. Have a safe trip home."

I smile at Demyx. Once I've pushed him out of his seat and left the booth, I tell him, "And you, too."

"Okay," he says. "Um...yeah. Okay."

God, I feel like a bitch. But I am one. And I think I know why. There's something I need to do now, and if I don't do it  _right now,_  I'll lose my nerve. It's something I probably should have done a long time ago.

I need to suck it up and talk to Marluxia.


	18. So Follow Me Down

 

I realize that I'm only doing this because I'm too stupid to know better – I have this vaguely horrified feeling right now, which usually means I'm doing something reckless or idiotic – but at present, I don't care. At present, this is  _all I have._  I'm clearly a fuckup, and I have no reason to  _not_ talk to Marluxia; Olette  _did_  say he cared about how Larxene was treating me. I think the subtext here is that he wants her to be mean to me, and intimidate me – he has to know she would, and does, and will continue doing so until he calls her off. Or I do.

I can hear her voice echoing in my head.  _Not going to happen._

Marluxia lives in this cozy little corner of the neighborhood closest to the Urban Jungle. The grass is deep green and cut well, the flowerbeds are clean and artfully done, and the narrow stone path is swept. There are two English walnut trees in the front yard, and the mailbox is shaped like a teapot.

Surprisingly, instead of pink, the house is a bluish green you won't find anywhere else. It matches his eyes.

I take a breath and knock. His doorbell is obnoxious, and he doesn't like the sound of it, so I always, always knock.  _Knocked._  Past tense. After today, I won't be talking to him again –

"Hello, Naminé," he says.

"I...uh..." I can't look at him. Dammit, this isn't how it's supposed to go.

"Why don't you come in."

It's familiar and comfortable, how that invitation is an order in disguise. He's not asking, or suggesting. He's commanding. And who am I to resist? Oh, that's right.  _Nobody._

"Okay," I tell him. For a moment I think I can almost see surprise, but then it's gone; I also wasn't looking at him directly, so I could be wrong. I'm probably wrong. He steps aside and I cross the threshold for the first time in years, and for some reason, it's like a weight has been lifted off me. It's weird, because I'm fairly certain I haven't been this scared in my  _life._

"I'm a little surprised to see you," he says, taking my arm and leading me to the kitchen. That's where everybody sits. Kitchen, tea, conversation. That's what this house is for.

"I'm a little surprised I came," I admit, and now I  _seriously_  wish I could find a brain/mouth filter that _works._  This is irritating. "That is, I-"

"You've gotten more direct over the years," he interjects. I'm kinda glad, because I had no idea what to say to make myself look less stupid.

I nod and turn my face away. He holds out a chair for me –  _god,_  this guy's weird – and sits across the table from me. "How have you been faring, Naminé?"

...Yeah. Weird. This guy is weird.

"I've been...all right. It's a little disconcerting to be back here, but in general, my life is going well."

Bull. Shit. Bullshit. He picks up on it right away. "Liar."

"Well, I don't have to tell  _you,"_  I say stubbornly, and then feel stupid again. He was all nice and invited me in and wasn't an ass to me, and how do I return the favor? I'm such a goddamn loser, I swear.

"No, you don't," he says pleasantly. Fucker.

After a minute of us sitting there, me trying not to fidget and him looking at me like I'm some new thing, I'm about to explode. Seriously. I need to not feel his eyes on my anymore. "I, uh," I blurt. Thinking quickly, I continue, "Larxene seems nice."

What? No, that came out wrong.

"She isn't," he tells me.

I shrug. "I know. I didn't mean for it to come out like that...what I meant was that you complement each other."

"I suppose that's a good thing."

"She actually freaks me out," I admit. I should rip out my tongue.

"Larxene has taken an...odd interest in you. Generally, she finds a toy and plays until she's bored," he tells me easily, as though we're discussing the weather and not the resident psycho. Aside from me, of course.

"But? What's different about me, other than my repulsive personality?"

He starts. I'm so surprised it's weirding me out, to be honest. "You find yourself repulsive?"

"Not like it should be a surprise to you," I tell him awkwardly, because what the fuck, seriously. "You couldn't stand me, and you were my best friend."

"Couldn't stand you?"

"Well, what else could it be?"

He frowns at me, kinda chastising like I've done something wrong. Subconsciously, I shrink into myself, but I don't give in. He gives me an odd shrug. "I thought," he says delicately, "we shouldn't be together. I saw in you something I'd never seen before; you wanted me to order you, to absolve you of any responsibility. I thought you were unsatisfied, or regretful – and I wanted a partner, not a slave. If I'd wanted to use you, I would have done things differently. But we're both too old and too wise for that now, aren't we? I can only say I'd  _like_  tohave it differently now, because you always amused me. You and your odd, witchy way."

My brain's pretty much crapped out on me, so all I can say is, "Witch? Larxene called me that, too."

"I've told her about you. You can make people do things, Naminé. You can look into them and find the right buttons to push, and when you push them...you can change them. You can make people cry, and laugh, and fall in love with you. If you so choose..." I can tell this is the part he likes most. "You can destroy them. Because of this, you amuse me. And I rather like having you around."

What.

The.

Fuck.

This must be a dream, because there's no way this would happen in real life. I can't do  _anything._ I'm a failure at pretty much everything, and I'm clearly not a people person, so...there's nothing he can see in me. But he  _does_  have a point. Breaking people is a specialty of mine. It makes me feel...validated, I think. Something weird like that.

Also, is he saying what I think he's saying? He wants to be friends again? What do  _I_  want? Well, as to the friendship thing, the answer is  _no, no, hell no._  Except I think the answer might be yes. God, can't he hate me like he's supposed to? That's what was supposed to happen. I'd be all hey, and he'd be all get lost, bitch. Then I could leave and feel like I had some kind of closure.

"I...like being around," I say eventually. I don't know if I can tell him straight out what's going through my head, but this...this is comfortable. We're talking like we haven't spent so many years apart. Like I never ignored him and he was never a total asshole. It wasn't supposed to go like this, but it's already established that I fail at life, so maybe I should have expected it.

"Good," he says, at the same time my cell phone makes a noise. A text? Who could possibly be texting me?

"Are you going to check that," he asks me after a moment. I realize I've been staring off into space. Whoops. Naminé, get your head in the game.

I sigh and draw my phone out of my pocket. "It's probably a wrong number."

But it isn't.

You were right about Fuu.

Well, fuck me sideways. Isn't he supposed to hate me or something. I guess he doesn't. This is as close as he'll ever come to  _thanking_  me for anything, at least sincerely. I'm thrown.

"I...guess it wasn't a wrong number," I say.

"Friend of yours?" Damn, Marluxia, can you get any more obvious? We've been friends for like five seconds. Chill.

"Yes, from Twilight Town. He's just...um...thanking me for...helping him with his sister."

Fuck. My.  _Voice._  If I start crying, I'll kick something. Hard.

"You know how to be nice?"

And fuck you too, jackass.


	19. If I'd Killed You When I Wanted To

 

Hanging with Marluxia is a totally bizarre experience. Not because he's bizarre, per se – though I have to be relative there, because I'm not the most  _sane_  person around – and not because we were friends not friends not enemies estranged friends. It's because he knows  _everything._

Zexion knows the Naminé who moved to Twilight Town, but he doesn't know who I was before. It's why he didn't understand when I told him I didn't  _know_  who I was. I have this habit of just ignoring things I don't like, so I don't have to include them in my List Of Life Experiences. It's like they never even existed.

Marluxia...knows everything about who I  _was._  Back then, I was a mess. Back then, I actually talked to people I trusted (which really was only Marluxia, but  _still)._  Back then, I was totally, totally weak.

So it's bizarre because no matter what he said to me, no matter how much I pissed him off, no matter how much we hurt each other, he  _never_  brought up things I'd told him in confidence. I don't know how much of that will change, and I don't know how much I even want anything to change. I'm not all excited about change, to be honest.

We're at the tea shop above Merlin's in the private tea room, and it's like I'm still sixteen and the world is for Other People. This should feel bad, because this is where we had most of our private conversations, but it doesn't. It feels nice. It's probably the crazy talking, but if my crazy likes something, it's a miracle.

"I...missed this," I say. It sounds childish and breathy and afraid, even to my ears. Well, whatever. I'm comfortable enough to admit that I'm scared out of my mind, which really neutralizes my fear, so it's just my voice acting up. No really.

His mouth twists into something like a smile. "Oh?"

In an effort to make myself feel less vulnerable, I tell him, "Yes. The blends here are unmatched anywhere else."

So take that and shove it up your ego.

"Yes, that  _is_  true."

Ah, you smug mother _fucker._  I see that face. I see what you're doing. You know, what you're actually doing is pissing me off. Which is good. I think.

"Why are you running a restaurant? I thought you wanted to work in a lab as a botanist." Yes, good. See? My voice was all awesome there. Full and steady. I was really off topic there, but it's okay. Marluxia knows I'm not random; my brain just works faster than my mouth. It's a fairly common affliction, I'm sure.

"Yes, to develop effective, untraceable poisons," he agrees, as though he's  _humoring_  me. Pfft. "However, I discovered that people poison themselves enough. It's much more fun to watch them in action on full stomachs."

Somehow, I'm pretty sure he's lying. I just don't know which part is the lie. Goddamn, he's annoying.

"...Oh," I say.

He laughs. I kinda like his laugh. But, you know, I'm also kinda crazy, so it's probably just that showing through. I like the whole rough-smooth-weird sound, and I have fond, fond memories of that laugh. Like the time we got out of school by blowing up all the toilets. And the time we planted thistles in the...

Ah. He's talking. I should probably pay attention.

"-isn't exactly subtle."

"Huh?" Bow before my superior intellect, bitch.

He sighs and repeats himself...probably. "I'm still marveling over your friendship with Larxene."

Okay, no, he  _didn't_  repeat himself, but whatever. I'm sure I can figure out what he was saying, eventually. I don't really want to, though, because does it matter? No, not really. He paraphrased and that's always the way to go. Besides, I – have to respond. Whoops. What do I say? Oh god.

"I didn't know we were friends," I blurt. Suddenly this all seems like a  _really bad idea._  How the hell could I possibly think this was a good idea? Am I completely retarded? Yes. I am mentally challenged. I am ridiculous.

Wait...wasn't that the point? I have  _nothing to lose._  Okay, I've got my bearings, and he's opening his mouth to answer so  _shut up, brain._

"She seems to think so." He appraises me. I always feel like property when he does this. "You have changed, Naminé."

"Yes, I..." He'll never know how much. I can't tell him how much. He'll hate me, and then I'll just have Justine to talk to and she'll constantly remind me of how pathetic I really am. Plus she's annoying. I kinda want to put her in a mutant flytrap just to see what it would do.

Feed me, Seymour.

"Living in a new town changes a person's perspective," I say at last. "I've met new people, started a business, and submerged myself in a completely new dynamic." Isn't it weird that I feel so comfortable around him? I think it's weird. Also weird is my voice. It rarely acts up around him. How is it that somebody so astoundingly terrifying can be so soothing to me? I'm fairly certain, though, that on the outside I still look terrified. And I do still have long pauses because I keep losing my train of thought...like now.

"Yes, that does help." Is it just me, or does he sound...sad? Nah. Marluxia's not like me. He doesn't let his emotions out. It's why he's so strong, while I'm so weak. "But it's not just that. You really are part of another world."

Okay,  _that_  I don't get. I am, in fact, still on Earth – most of the time, anyway. Oh god, has he noticed that I'm now crazy? Does he think it's funny? Or stupid? Or maybe he's totally disgusted with me because I have none of my stable qualities anymore. I laugh awkwardly and say, "I'm still Naminé."

"And that, I'm glad of."

Hey, why does he ever even seem scary? I just realized. He never says anything particularly threatening. He always sounds nice and even and cordial. He  _looks_  impressive, but let's be honest here – he has  _pink hair._  He loves flowers and gardening. And...well, sharp things, and poisons, but I only know that because I used to be his world. His counterpart. His partner in crime and his best friend.

I shouldn't be scared of him. But I am. Or maybe it's that I'm afraid of how I react to him. I'm not blind; I know I promised myself I wasn't going to talk to him, I wasn't going to interact. I wasn't going to think of him, and...that lasted for about half a second, seriously. There's this good old  _je ne sais quoi_  about him. A pull. And I fall for it.

Gathering up my courage, I ask, "What do you want from me?"

Now I'm shrinking into myself. Fuck. I guess I've used up my courage quota.

"Well," he says slowly. It's like he's...stalling. What the hell? "I suppose...your company. I missed you."

Oh god oh god oh god. What.

Just. What.

Okay, hold it for a minute while my brain fizzles and dies. Does not compute. Self-destruct in eight. Seven. Threetwoone. "That doesn't make any sense! I'm totally useless!"

...Yeah. Self-destruct.

Marluxia doesn't say anything. I chance a glace at him, through my hair, and I'm startled to see _him_  looking startled. Goddamn. I know this room is like...off limits. Like we can be real here. But it's just so  _weird,_  Marluxia looking surprised. I was never able to blindside him, even when I was trying. Maybe I  _have_  changed. I still want to run out. I wonder if he'd follow. I don't know if I'd want him to.

"Are you," he finally asks. Now he sounds irritated. That's better, at least; irritation, I can deal with. Anger, I can deal with. Hell, I can even deal with being knocked around.  _Well,_  at that. But that moment of pause, like he was hurt and surprised and something else weird, I just...couldn't. Call me a wuss. It's true. I'm a total, total pussy.

Well, I might as well finish this. It's not like this will leave here, and honestly, I'm sick of all the pretense. He's an asshole, I'm a stupid bitch, and they all had tea. The end. "I'm only useful to myself," I tell him. "And I can't hold onto one thought. Can't concentrate. I...hate people. What use could I possibly have to you?"

"Didn't I already say you amuse me?" Now his tone is condescending.  _Finally._  This is comfortable. I look down – I'm not really embarrassed about what he said, but about the whole  _I Like Condescension_  bullshit going on in my head. What kind of person really thinks like this? You read about them, people like me, but it's like they have no faces. They don't really exist. Then it hits you with the force of rolling steel pipes and you can't pick up the pieces of yourself without medical help, for reals.

"Yes, you did."

"I didn't just keep you around for the laughs, Naminé," he tells me, "but because you're clever. Whether or not you say it, you always know  _what_  to say. I like messing with people – studying them, leading them to different reactions. You're better at it than anyone I know, except possibly Larxene, but only because she terrifies everyone."

I can imagine what we look like right now – I could probably draw it. A girl in white, sitting on her knees, looking down at the floor with her hands on her thighs, embarrassed and chastised and pathetic. Then a man in black, looking at her with the mocking face, almost laughing at her. It's funny how the image is far from the truth. I'm embarrassed because he's complimenting me, and that's just his normal way of speaking.

If Sora were here, he'd probably misunderstand. He'd probably try to save me from Marluxia. But he's not here. He's the reason I  _met_  Marluxia – Kairi died, he disappeared, and I was left with this ghost of a heart. Marluxia gets it, which is why we became friends in the first place.

And at this point...I don't  _want_  Sora to come back. I don't want to see him again. He made his choice – Riku was more important than I was. I wish I could erase myself from his memory so there would be no chance of us meeting again.

"What are you thinking about?"

I laugh a little. "Sora. My cousin."

"The one who took off when we were younger?"

I shrug. "Yes. I'm just thinking...he'd probably try to take me away, if he knew we were...friends? You're a better friend than he ever was, and half the time I can't even look at you."

"Anyone could have told you that, Naminé, but nobody will. Your Sora was a  _hero."_  He spits the word, like it's something foul. I can actually relate. Heroes are bogus. "Being a hero means making sacrifices. He wanted to save his Riku, but he lad to leave behind something far more interesting."

I meet his face – not his eyes, but I'm looking straight at him. I smile this real smile –  _real –_  and say, "Well, fuck him. I'm a new woman."

Because you know what? I am.


	20. I'd Be Out Of Jail By Now

 

I feel like a Lite-Brite. Everything in me, my emotions and all that junk, is made of little colored lights and I swear you could read me, if you cared to look. I know nobody really cares all that much – I'm pretty much the most boring person on the planet, aside from that guy who hasn't left his house in ten years. But this is just  _if._  I'm all red and green and blue and love.

I don't get it, because seriously, I'm not in love. I don't really...love people. Sure, I (obviously) have crushes, and I have sex sometimes, but love...I loved Kairi. I can't love anybody else. I'm fairly certain it's impossible. And yet...I feel love. I feel it in me. Fucking weird, if you ask me, but again, why would I ask myself? I'm me.

Anyway, I feel like a new woman. It's not true – I just  _feel_  like it. I guess it's because the last week has been amazing. Or maybe it's because Zexion doesn't hate me and now that I'm thinking rationally I'm glad about it. Or maybe it's because of Marluxia.

He's been so...himself lately. If there's anything I like more than drawing and music, it's familiarity, and even though we've both changed so much, he's still so familiar. He doesn't try to make me feel safe, but I feel safe anyway.  _Familiarity._  It's a bonus.

Today will be the first day since we reconnected that we hang with Larxene. I'm not sure how exactly to go about dealing; she's...herself. Smart and terrifying and...beautiful. And pointy. Can't forget pointy. Goddamn crazy bitch.

I'm on the porch with my sketchbook, which I know I'll need; we're going to the Crystal Fissure just outside of the town. It's this gigantic, well, fissure, with its walls entirely covered in white crystals, and the ground is smooth and hard and the same white color as the crystal walls. I haven't been there in years, but I remember how beautiful it is. I'll want to capture it. For posterity's sake, or something retarded like that.

A big, beat-up van in teal pulls into the driveway. I can see Larxene behind the wheel; well, I didn't expect  _Marluxia_  to drive a vehicle like that, so I'm not surprised, but my heart does this little  _whoo_ thing and I scowl. Stupid crush. I can see them laughing, and I gather my bag and sketchbook and wave as I get to the car (and get in).

...There is a mattress in the back. Why is there a mattress back here? I'm halfway tempted to go back inside and pretend this never happened, for reals.

"Just sit anywhere," she says, waving her hand vaguely in my direction. "I don't have back seats. They were stolen off my lawn in Hollow Bastion."

Well then.

I sit on my knees, sort of between the seats so I can hear them talk without getting in the way. I figure, if I'm going to be breaking the law and risking my life, I might as well do it the fun way.

When she starts pulling out of the driveway, Marluxia says, "I'm half surprised you decided to come, Naminé."

Okay, really, the bastard knows me too well...and could he  _stop_  saying my name like that? Jesus. A minute into this and I'm already wondering what the hell I'm doing here. Hanging with Marluxia is like watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show – it seems like a great idea, and then you do it and you wonder where the good parts are. Then after it's your favorite thing ever again.

Totally lame.

"I like to keep people guessing," I tell him, but it sounds totally weak. I mean, it is weak, which is why it sounds weak, but still. If my head was on straight, I'd be able to talk like I mean it. And, if I wasn't so close to Larxene, because her gorgeous hip is right at eye level. Since she's wearing this ridiculous miniskirt, I can totally see the black lace strips she calls underwear and it's distracting. Also, I'm afraid she's going to elbow me in the face.

"Well,  _I'm_  not surprised at all," she says. Bitchface. "Naminé and I have an understanding, don't we?"

I might disagree with her –  _might –_  on the grounds that she pretty much says whatever and I go along with it because she's pretty and scary. However, her elbow is still there in front of me and I'd rather not have a black eye. They're very unattractive.

"Yeah," I say. Die, voice. Die.

"I find that very hard to believe," he tells us. He looks down at me and I suddenly feel so powerful. I could say anything to him. I could pick him apart. I could lay out his brain for Larxene to see. I won't, but I  _could._  This...is weird. I've never really felt like this before.

"Luckily, what you believe and what  _is_  aren't always the same. Now, tell me where to go. Even after a year I totally get lost trying to get out of here."

True story: the way out of Traverse Town is bizarre. There's this tangle of roads you have to get through, and then you have to make sure not to get on the road leading  _in_  again. It's like they want to keep us trapped, keep us nobodies forever. A lifetime of amounting to nothing.

Fuck that, seriously.

"You want to take Heartside to Dawn Way, and then keep going until you get to Mooglemart. Then you-"

"Take it easy, I can't remember it all," she says irritably. Also, do I detect some fondness in there? Weird. "That's why I'm  _asking_  you to guide me in the first place."

Why do I have a feeling she doesn't ask for help much? Probably makes her feel vulnerable, or some shit like that. He doesn't directly reply to that mini rant; even  _I_  can tell it was meant to be a lecture and not a discussion opener.

...Does this mean I'm learning Larxene's mannerisms and moods? Oh god. I can't decide if this is very, very good or very, very terrible. For now, I'm going to reserve judgment, mostly because I can't handle worrying the whole time we're together.

Okay.

There's a little while of silence. I guess it's okay; it's not like anybody needs to talk. I don't like useless chatter, even when I'm feeling awkward. It inevitably leads to awkward discussions or even more awkward silence, and then there's just too much awkwardness. Like in that sentence, goddamn.

Mooglemart comes into view and Marluxia says, "Okay, now make a right at the gate and go straight until you come to Spaghetti Highway."

Yeah. That's what we call it. Spaghetti Highway. It's not a highway, and it's not even big enough to be one, but it's all confusing and...spaghetti-y. I always feel like a meatball when I'm driving on it.

I try to watch the scenery as it passes. It's kind of interesting to see the scenery clear and suddenly be in the middle of a bowl of concrete spaghetti, and then come out the other side. But the problem is, I can't see very well. I'm on my knees on the floor. I'd get onto the mattress, but who knows where it's been?

I should have more faith in her than this. Strangely, I don't.

We're finally out, and on the main road – not quite a highway, but we'll be there soon. This is one thing I can say for Larxene: she apparently doesn't know where the brake pedal is. If we keep going like this, it'll be just like a roller coaster without the tracks or the seat belts or the operator that makes sure you don't go too fast or too slow or die.

So not really like a roller coaster at all, except we're going really fast.

What the hell, Naminé. Stop being a moron.

I feel so quiet and I'd like to take a pencil and draw us, three figures on the nameless highway to somewhere. It almost reminds me of that summer after my mom introduced us to the Love Of Her Life, and my dad had that face on that made me sick. I called up Marluxia and we booked it to Radiant Garden. We were going to stay there, like  _run away_  stay there, but then he ran out of meds and an ER visit always brings people down to earth again, right?

It would have been a good thing, maybe, but...well, it doesn't really matter. I can't go back, and I wouldn't want to even if I could. I don't want to relive my teenage years – yikes. At least when I got back, it was like I never left; my dad didn't say anything about it, and I didn't do it again.

"What are you thinking about," Larxene asks me. Christ, do I have to answer?

"Um...there was a time...that Marluxia and I ran away together, sort of, and this is nice," I say lamely. I mean, that  _is_  what I'm thinking about, but it sounds weird out loud.

"Oh really? Did you turn back once you realized you couldn't reach Vegas on one tank?"

"Be quiet," Marluxia says. Fondly. Because he shows his affection in retarded ways. "We were fifteen."

"I phrased that badly anyway," I say. "I meant to say that I remember the... _feeling..._ and this is similar, but only slightly." Hey, my voice! It's working again! Sweet! "I wanted to...draw us..."

And, there it goes again. Is it too late to take a vow of silence? I could do something insanely horrible like eat babies or slaughter an entire charity organization and do it to pay a penance, or...yeah, this is making no sense. Welcome to my brain. Why thank you, I'm honored.

Wait what. Seriously.

"Aww, now  _I_  feel honored," she says caustically. Uh...okay, she sounds  _jealous._  What's her problem? If anybody should be jealous, it's me, because I'm obviously the outsider here. I'm not jealous, though; I guess that's a (small) virtue. I  _never_  get jealous. I sometimes wish I had something, but I mean, being jealous just poisons you and I like to think of myself as rational enough to avoid poison.

Except anger. And bad relationships, apparently.

"Our Naminé is very good at making people feel important," he tells her. Ouch, dude. He wouldn't be himself if he wasn't an asshole, but she's his best friend. Actually, that's the way Zexion and I function, so maybe it's not as terrible as I thought, but still.

...Oh, fucking...am I actually wanting to stand  _up_  for her? I've got it bad. Swear to god, I'm about to hurl.

Also, what's with the  _Our Naminé?_  Axel said that too. Am I just a possession or something? Jesus. I'd prefer it if he'd just say my name, or even better, 'she.' When he says my name I always feel like a loser.

"Good thing to know," she says almost slyly – well, at least she's not offended, but if they haven't killed each other she probably doesn't get offended all that easily. She half turns, keeping her eyes on the road. "I knew you were hiding something."

Hiding? I don't think I was hiding anything. I mean, it's not like I take pains to make sure nobody figures me out. People just don't look hard enough, and I don't broadcast myself. That would be stupid.  _Hey guys, I'm evil!_  No. Wrong.

"Um..."

Well, at least I don't have to say anything else, because Marluxia says, "Keep your eyes on the road! Dammit, woman, are you trying to kill us?"

This is funnier than it should be. True story: Marluxia has a small fear of cars. Well, not so much cars as  _riding in_  them. If he's driving, he's okay. Because he's in control. But when he's a passenger, he gets all abnormally panicky and it's actually taking all of my willpower to not let that stupid waterfall escape from my mouth. I'd call him a pansy, but he'd probably take it as a compliment, the weirdo.

Well, there's no more talking. And not much time for musing, either. I don't know how I do this, but I have the rare ability to look and think about nothing for long periods of time. I mean, I know I'm thinking, but I couldn't tell you my thoughts. It's just swirls of half-images, going around and around and around and...

Yeah. Swirls. Swirliest swirls that ever swirled, even.

Anyway, it's like...one minute I'm talking to them, and then next we're here at the Fissure. Well, it's not  _like_  that, it  _is_  that. Larxene stops the van and announces, "I brought sandwiches."

Oh god. I  _hate_  sandwiches. They have bread and goo. I mean, I'm not going to eat anything either way (I'm too nervous; I'll probably throw it up anyway, so what's the point?), but still. Ew. Gross.

"That's nice," Marluxia says dismissively. Jackass. I hope he chokes on Larxene's sandwich.

Fuck. Control yourself, Naminé.

I get my sketchbook and my bag of pencils and leave the car. Marluxia goes before us to get the ladder; the last time either of us came here was five years ago and I hid it. It's  _our_  place, and since Larxene is now part of "us," it's her place too. I'm actually not sure if we're supposed to go in here, but whatever.

Larxene and I stand together, but distinctly separate, and I've never felt more awkward. Or, if I have, I don't remember it. I have this overwhelming urge to say something, or do something, to make her look at me or notice me. But I am very good at ignoring my urges. I mean, if I wasn't, how many times would I have burned my hand on the stove? How many fingers would I have broken? Would I even be alive after I shot myself? I mean, I like to see how things  _feel._  Call it vicarious emotion. Call it bizarre. I don't care.

I'm glad when Marluxia comes back carrying our giant ladder, because Larxene's standing there in all her godly glory and I can barely even look at her without wanting to do...something. I don't know what that 'something' is, but whatever it is, I want to do it.

I'd like to take this time to admire that body. Holy  _fuck,_  he's strong. You wouldn't know it by glancing, though. I look down at my own arms, which are pathetic even for a wuss like me, and I know if I were a lame schoolgirl in a stupid story, I'd be blushing like crazy. Fortunately, I'm not a lame schoolgirl. And if I'm in a stupid story, don't tell me.

...I don't even think blushing is physically possible. I've never seen it happen. I've seen people redden in anger, and I've seen people flushed from cold, and I've even seen red faces because of physical activities. But embarrassment? Never.

This is way not relevant right now. Get it together, Naminé.

Marluxia's arms: wonderful. My arms: pathetic. Okay, let's move on now.

I follow Marluxia down the ladder and I  _try_  not to stare at Larxene coming down after me, but let's face it – her legs are stairways to heaven. And where did she even  _get_  that lace contraption, anyway? I should send them money.

Whoa, girl. I bet Larxene  _knows_  what she's doing. Half of me thinks she planned it. But that's the half that's horribly, irreverently self-involved. It's the part I should studiously ignore. So I will. But I'd have to be a moron to ignore what's put right in front of me.

I drop the last few rungs to the ground and quickly look away. This is more about Marluxia than it is about Larxene; I don't want him to know that I find her incredibly sexy. I'm sure he already knows she  _is_  sexy; he's a straight male, no matter how feminine he may be sometimes. But I'm also sure he doesn't know about me...yet. Hopefully, he won't. Or maybe that would be a bad thing? It all depends on Larxene, really, and why am I even considering the idea of 'being with' her?

What the fuck, seriously.

She drops down beside me and gives us this coyish smile. I'm fairly certain it's some kind of act, but then, it's hard to read her. I can get a read on pretty much anybody, if I bother to try, but I can't get her. Does that make her more desirable? Actually, probably not. It's more infuriating than alluring.

Then her eyes widen and all expression leaves her face. "Oh," she says, like there's nothing else. I can appreciate that; the first time I saw this place, I did the same thing. If I hadn't been staring at her ass, I'd probably have been standing and looking around like a moron. Well, I guess I have been standing and looking like a moron, but not at the right thing.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

...I just spoke. I just spoke to her, directly to her, uninvited and without any shake. The world didn't end. She didn't smack me (though, I might have enjoyed that). Nobody laughed at me. And I don't feel any different. What am I even afraid of, then?

I sit on the ground, kind of by the wall but not touching, because  _ow._  Crystals. Back. Not a good match. Marluxia sits to the left of me and Larxene sits right in front of me. She's still looking around like oh my god, and Marluxia turns off the flashlight so it's almost completely dark. In the dim light from the sun outside, the crystals sparkle a little and I feel like crying, kinda. I can appreciate beauty.

I hear a lighter and suddenly candles are being lit. This is kind of a ritual; Marluxia and I would come down here and sit in the candlelight, talking about whatever or just being silent in each other's company. This is where I told him about Kairi, and my mom, and Sora's stepdad. It's where he told me about why he lived with his aunt and that he wouldn't care if I decided to be a guy. That it shouldn't matter.

I guess I've always wondered why he was so accepting of me, but this place does things to you. It's okay here to be emotional and...weak, I guess. We're far below the bustle of the world. This  _is_ our world. It's okay to be stupid here, nobody will see.

But maybe I'm reading into it too much. Maybe he's...not as bad as I think he is. Maybe I'm scared of what he  _could_  do, rather than what he's  _done._  When we were younger, I was afraid he'd leave me and I'd be all alone. I couldn't be alone again, not at that point. Maybe that's all I'm afraid of. Being alone.

The candles are all lit now and I can see Larxene over the small flames. She's gorgeous. There's something about the dim light glinting off that knife necklace and her eyes. There's something about the candy in her mouth – she's always sucking on something, how did I not notice? There's something about the graceful way her blouse falls on her lap. There's just...something about  _her._

"How'd you guys find this place," she asks quietly.

"It's not exactly a secret," he tells her, and when she smiles that coyish smile again I bring out my sketchbook. I  _have_  to draw her. She's perfect. Unaware, or maybe just uninterested, he continues, "Nobody bothers with this place. They were trying to make it a national park, but it's just a small cave. People just stopped caring."

"Stopped caring? How could anyone stop caring about such a beautiful thing?"

Ah, so she appreciates beauty too. I'm glad. I put my pencil to the paper but I pause when he says, very quietly, "Where have I heard that before?"

Her face changes. She looks very quiet and...small. I don't want to draw her like this, but I'm going to anyway. It looks wrong, but everybody needs to be wrong sometime in their lives. It's the way we survive. It's the way we know we exist. Being right all the time would be like dreaming. Only you'd never wake up.

"It's not the same."

He doesn't say anything directly to her, but instead asks me, "Do you think Larx is beautiful?"

"Of course," I say dismissively. It takes me a moment of small strokes before I realize how easily I said that. And that I said it out loud, in front of her. "Um...uh. Yes."

I don't look at her. I can't. I'd rather look at my sketchbook, where she'll live forever in that small, quiet way. I'm not even finished with her face, but even if I never see her again, I'll never even have to reach for this memory.

There's more silence. I have to assume he gave her some sort of pointed look, and I'm not stupid enough to ask. I'm also not stupid enough to not get what he's talking about. It's kind of sad, really, but if she hadn't...been thrown away by whoever, I wouldn't have met her. This is definitely the selfish side of me talking, but it's not like I'm going to say anything. It's only wrong if you get caught, right?

Wrong. But whatever.

"What are you drawing," she asks me curiously. I'm glad she still sounds normal. I chance a glance and she still looks quiet, but she's back to her normal size now. I mean, she never got physically small or anything, but...she looks like a goddess again, instead of an insecure human. I'm glad.

"You," I tell her. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to record another memory."

What. The hell.

"Well, should I pose or something?"

I raise both my eyebrows and shake my head. "I can remember you quite well. Why would you need to pose?"

She makes a terrible snorting noise. It's ever so unattractive. So why do I think it's cute? Because I'm ridiculous, clearly. "That's what I do for a living."

Dumbly, I ask, "Pose?"

"She's a model," Marluxia clarifies. Wow, I feel like a dumbass.

"I'd rather be behind the camera, though," she tells me. It's like a secret. Just between us three. "I'm a good photographer, but I always get stuck doing stupid cosmetics and underwear ads. At least they let me keep the clothes."

Ah, so that's where she got those. I'm not going to ask which brand they are, because a) she'd know I stared, and b) she'd probably think I wanted them. I don't. I just...well, they're sexy on her. Now that I think about it, a paper bag would be sexy on her, but whatever.

I go back to drawing, but for some reason I feel comfortable speaking still. "Do you have a portfolio? It looks better if..." This shadowing is wrong. I can't erase it, though, so I have to improvise; it's not that bad. It could be worse. But I'm going to have to recreate this scene when I have better light and better materials. Maybe when I'm back in Twilight Town, and I know I'll never see her again. Oh wait. I'm talking. I'm also such an idiot, losing my train of thought in the middles of a sentence, and shut up brain, I need to finish. "You have something to build on. Even if it's just nature scenes or spur-of-the-moment candids, if you're really good, a trained eye can tell."

"Of course I have a portfolio." She huffs. Yes,  _huffs._  Weird. "I'm not a complete idiot."

"Some parts are missing," Marluxia snips.

Larxene hits him – I can hear the smack. It's probably his shoulder. "Asshole."

I think I must be completely nuts to think that's really sexy. Hitting is never sexy, right? Except it totally is. And I'm beyond hope, because I think it would be really amazing if she...if we...

Bad thoughts.

"Well, whatever you're missing, it obviously doesn't detract from your character, because you're kinda perfect," I blurt. Oh crap. I know there's a sort of Vegas secrecy code here, but still. I'm kinda totally mortified, because that's not awkward or anything. Whoops.

"Good to know  _somebody_  thinks so." She's murmuring and I feel lighter than air. It's weird, because just a minute ago I was embarrassed to the max. I think there are undertones there, but I can't place them. I don't know her very well. I want to know her  _more._  I want to know everything about her – what she likes, what she dislikes. Why she resorts to modeling if she really wants to be a photographer. Who fucked her over and what their address is. What she dreams. What she thinks. What she...well, feels. I guess.

"I'm sure lots of people do – they're just too afraid to say anything," I say. Jesus, mouth, why do you always betray me?

"Afraid...of me?"

Does she not  _realize_  how scary she is? She's a bona fide psycho! Of course, that's really hot, and I get it, but not everybody can march up to a crazy person and strike up a conversation about how beautiful and wonderful and crush worthy she is. It's like she uses fear as sexuality as a weapon.

"You're not exactly a kitten, Larxene," Marluxia says flatly. I like that tone of voice. We all laugh and it's like something's been released into the air; something good.

"Well, this not-kitten is hungry. Time to eat." She brings out the lunches she packed – I'm actually surprised at this, but I'm not going to mention it – and adds, "So eat."

"Um...I'm...not hungry," I say. Lame. F-minus. But what else can I say?  _Sorry, but I don't eat sandwiches._  Or maybe  _sorry, but I don't eat when I'm nervous._

Or...maybe  _sorry, I don't eat._  That's what it seems like, lately. I'm just so tied up inside all the time. I know if I put any food into my mouth it'll come back up and even if it doesn't, I'll feel it inside me, ruining my insides. It's like tracking mud in a temple or poisoning a fresh spring. I couldn't handle ruining myself in front of them.

I can feel them staring at me, but I don't look up. I could lie to myself and say it's because I'm really focused on my drawing, but the truth is, I'm too embarrassed to look at them. I'm afraid of what I'll see. I shift and say, "But don't hold back on my account."

There's some quiet laughter and I'm glad for it. I'm not really afraid of them, but rather their reactions to me. If they knew me...if they know me. I don't know if I'd be able to handle losing what I'm not sure I even have yet. I mean this, being with Marluxia and getting the chance to be with Larxene, and I could lose it if they knew.

It's funny, I guess. I spent so long thinking I was afraid of them. But it's not that. I'm totally comfortable right now, other than the fear that they'll find out I'm not worth their time. I'm not afraid of Marluxia like I used to be. I'm not afraid of Larxene like I thought I was. Maybe it's not them at all.

In public, I'm extremely terrified. I wonder if it's because there are people around. Like, what does it say about me? About my psyche? Hey, everyone, I hang out with psychopaths and I love it. I'm clearly crazy, and you should all be afraid of me. It's like...when I'm in public, I'm acutely aware of my flaws and my flawed thinking. I'm afraid people will know. I'm afraid people will hate me. I'm afraid of the fact that I'm afraid of people I don't even care about.

But here, when it's just us three...me, Marluxia, and Larxene...I'm only afraid of losing them.


	21. Braver When You Save Me

 

I've never really hated mornings. Sometimes I'd rather not wake up, but it's not like I've ever looked out the window and cursed the sun. That's stupid. It's not like you can change the natural cycle of the world just because you hate it. But I  _hate_  this morning.

"Come on, get up!"

Fucking Justine.

I shouldn't have agreed to go look at flowers with her today. I know, Lisa's getting all wedding crazy, but still. It's not for another few months. Can't she wait? I'm surprised Justine's taking this so well, because nobody could possibly be this excited about somebody else's wedding. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure it's possible to be this excited about anything.

"I'm up," I mutter through that ugly sleep goo in my throat. Gross.

"Well, get dressed, we have to get an early start!" Ugh, that girl. I'd like to rip out her hair and sell her pretty eyes on the black market, but I won't. I'm too nice for that. Or, I'm not ready to go to jail. That's probably closer to the truth.

"I'm  _up,"_  I say again. Last night I really did promise myself I would not give her attitude, but let's face it – she deserves it. Only crazy people and criminals get up this early just to go  _shopping._  Ew.

Something is wrong with this girl. Fundamentally.

"...Good. But I'm still waiting."

I give her my best half-glare (because I've only managed to open one eye) and say, "I don't know why you need me, anyway."

"Because you're the daughter of the groom," she says in this really degrading  _duh_  voice. Well, sor- _ree,_  Sunshine. I don't know shit about weddings. Marriage is retarded, anyway. Even if I suddenly had proposals – like  _that_  would ever happen – I wouldn't marry anybody. I don't want to ruin  _my_  life.

"Oh," I reply. Okay, then. That's what my tone is saying. I can't stand how my voice doesn't act up in the mornings; it makes me think it only does it to annoy me. "Well, get out. I have to change."

I guess Zexion and I are kind of alike when it comes to mornings, though I'm usually easier to deal with. I bet if he got laid, he'd feel better about mornings, but he has a Relationship stick up his ass. Come on, sex is sex. It's not like it's important. He should really start thinking about us, the poor innocent bystanders. And, yes, I'm bad today. I should focus on the getting up thing instead of Zexion and his distinct lack of sex life.

...I wonder if Marluxia's sexually active. Ugh, bad Naminé. Bad.

I stretch and clear my throat, which is still full of goo. Goddamn, that's disgusting. I took a shower last night, so I'm going to just get dressed and brush my teeth and go – I'm suddenly really glad I have an adjoined bathroom – this isn't my usual routine, and I'm a little hesitant to change it, but I'm not going to dress up all pretty just for  _Justine –_  and hopefully, we'll break for lunch so I can nap on the table.

Today I'm wearing baggy gray pants, because then it feels normal to have my legs slipping around. I know this is borderline unhealthy, how skinny my legs are, but I can't help it; everything's been so crazy, and I can't eat when things are crazy. Instead of having that gross vomit taste in my mouth, I'd rather just go without food until the crazy stops. It's not like I really have a problem, no matter what my therapist says. She's definitely on crack.

Justine's knocking on the door like the world's gonna end and I'm pretty much ready to end it for her if she doesn't knock it off, but whatever. I only have to pick out a shirt –

White always makes me look washed out, so why do I only own white shirts? Oh, and that blue one. And the black one, but that's dirty. I need someone to pick out my clothes for me. I bet Larxene could do it; I love her fashion sense, and why am I thinking about her? Eh, well, it beats thinking about ripping out Justine's hair.

"I'm coming," I say, pulling on the blue shirt and slipping into my sandals. I put my wallet in my back pocket and get my art bag before yanking the door open. Justine's hand stops like a centimeter away from my nose and I kinda wish that had connected, because then I could justify hitting her. Y'know,  _she started it._

"Let's go," she says brightly, as though she  _isn't_  the most annoying person in the history of ever.

"Yes. Let's," I reply, trying to sound all sarcastic and utterly failing because my voice hates me. Fuck my life, seriously.

Justine's one of those people who like to walk everywhere. Not that I mind walking, but she takes forever; she's also one of those stop-and-smell-the-flowers kind of people, plodding along with that vapid smile. I'm embarrassed to be seen with her.

...At least she's not a hairspray princess. The smell would surely push me over the edge.

We're like halfway there now and I can't believe time just went so fast even though she's going so slow. I bet it's because I'm trying so hard to pretend she doesn't exist. That takes a lot of concentration; it never works, but it's really not meant to. It's just a distraction.

"Naminé," she says hesitantly, looking at me through her hair like she doesn't know if she'll get murdered for talking to me. "What has...um, what has your dad told you about the wedding?"

"Nothing," I respond, and I shiver because for some reason it's cold out here. Middle of the fucking summer, and it's freezing. I look over at Justine who doesn't look cold at all – lucky bitch – and add, "I doubt he even knows I know...i-it's probably going to be...a surprise." Good to know my lack of vocal stability doesn't discriminate.

Not.

"Oh." When I sneak a peek, she's looking down at her feet, still plodding along but looking almost sad. "If I had known you didn't know, I wouldn't have said..."

"Don't w-orry about it; this town...can't keep any secrets. I would have found out quickly anyway."

Is it bad that I feel bad about not making her feel bad? Like I've neglected my duties or something, and now the bitch police are going to cuff me and take me away. I bet I wouldn't mind if Larxene was the arresting officer and  _whoa,_  we don't need to go there, do we, Naminé? Move along now, little girl.

"Oh," she says again. "Thanks." And dammit, even just peripherally I can see she's giving me this beatific smile and  _this_  is why you don't give them an inch, even if you're feeling exceptionally friendly. She probably thinks I was being nice to her.

Instead of strangling her, or at least tripping her, I decide to say, "I didn't do anything." But now I regret it – funny how I can only regret tiny things that ultimately don't matter – because I know what's coming, and I don't have the patience for this song and dance.

"You were just really nice," she says, just like I thought she would. "I don't have any friends here, so...thank you for not ditching me, I guess, and for not being mad."

A stupid person would say really it was nothing, and then it would go back and forth like a deranged tennis match, but I'm not completely useless. "You're welcome." There. Problem solved. She won't go on about that shit and even though it totally gives the wrong impression, at least now I can walk in peace.

...Except we're nearly there, and I have no idea how we got here so fast. Well, flowers are better conversation than Justine, and I'm only half kidding.

"The colors are blue, gray, and orange," she informs me as soon as we enter at the ungodly hour of stupid o'clock in the morning. Marluxia loves this place, because he's a morning person, but I'm _so_  not focused on that because I can only think how  _revolting._

Really, Lisa, orange?

Catching my look, Justine laughs wryly. "I'm going to talk her out of it, eventually, but the blue will stay, at least. I was hoping for something about the same color as your eyes, since it's Mom's favorite color, but I don't know where to start. I know you have an eye for flowers, so..." She gestures to the inside of the store. "Knock yourself out."

I refrain from making a face at her. I don't even know if I could pull it off, at this point, but...goddamn, it's weird to hear her talking about my eye color like that! I've never really paid much attention to eyes; they're just to see with and, in some cases, add to a person's aesthetic presence, but mostly they're just so our faces don't look bizarre (and so we don't bump into nightstands). I know my eyes are blue, but who cares?

Apparently Justine cares. She's in design, so she's got an eye for color and detail (I guess), but it's still fucking weird.

Now I can't even remember the specific shade of my eyes, and I'd rather not look in a mirror because ew. Seriously, ew. I start to walk toward the packets of seeds in the back (they have more pictures and selection, so we can order nice, fresh ones just before the wedding, even if they come from a different place), but Justine grabs my arm and tries to pull me away.

"What are you  _doing,"_  I ask her, ripping my arm away. See, this is why you don't get chummy with people you dislike, because they think they can just go touching you without permission.

"We have to leave  _now,"_  she hisses. "Come on, before they see!"

At first I'm going to tell her it's bad to steal things, but then I hear the bell on the door chime and I know what she's really afraid of. Here's my chance! I shake my head. "Justine, they're my friends. If you're really that worried about...whatever you're worried about, you can take off, but I'm going to say hello." Funny how that would have sounded cool if my voice wasn't crying.

"I'm out of here then," she says quickly. I watch her book it out of the store, and I'm kinda...nonplussed. Because what the hell, seriously. I still don't know what the fuck her problem is but it's obvious she's unhinged.

I see Marluxia coming toward me, but I don't think he's noticed me yet. Larxene's there kinda trailing behind him, looking around her like she doesn't know what to do. I have a feeling she's not all into flora like he is.

I'm going to take a moment to admire her. When she's not looking directly at me, there's this weird sort of vulnerability around her that she never consciously shows. I'm guessing it's because of whatever happened before (and if it's Axel's fault, his ass is  _mine),_  but it makes her seem almost childlike when she's not paying attention or being a bitch. I like her bitchy, but I think I want to draw this, too. I don't want to see her vulnerable, but at the same time, this really sick part of me does.

I want to know she's human, kinda. If she's human, I might actually have a chance. Probably not, but still, sometimes I invite optimism to tea.

There's a sucker in her mouth, hanging out of the corner like it's only there on its own. She's wearing black pants this time, kinda billowy like mine. They're nicer though, more like slacks than anything, and I can see the class. She can look so slutty sometimes, and it's really hot, but I think I like this look better; it's softer somehow. Her light blue blouse totally matches mine and I feel something like pride, before I realize  _what the hell,_  it's not like coincidence means anything.

Her shiny boots make her feet look dangerous. I wonder if she still has a knife tucked into her stockings, or if she even has them on. She could be wearing hose under there. That would be weird, and probably annoying, but it  _could be._  I wonder what the occasion is.

Marluxia glances up and sees me, and the smile on his face is something between delighted and pure fucking evil. It's like he lives to torment me with his expressions or something.

"You're looking rather gloomy today, Naminé," he tells me. I resist the urge to cover my face with my hands to check the expression. It wouldn't matter, and it would only make Larxene laugh at me, which would be very tragic or whatever.

I decide to tell the truth. "Justine dragged me out of bed to look for flowers that match my eyes."

He raises an eyebrow. Lucky guy can actually do it with one. "And?"

"And I don't remember what my eyes look like." I try not to wail this. It's really embarrassing to think of how distressing this is.

He steps back and appraises me –  _god,_  I hate that! I'm not a work of art! After he's done perusing, he says, "I'd say Gentiana verna. They're hard to find around here, but not impossible to get. Why are you looking?"

Well, thank you for solving my dilemma, oh great god of all things petally and chlorophyllified. Now that I feel utterly humiliated and violated, we can move on. "My dad's wedding."

"The one in December?"

I give him a dry look I totally hope he sees and understands. "Lisa is wedding crazy. She thinks orange will be a good color, but her daughter is trying to talk her out of it."

"It's surprising to see that girl has  _some_  sense," Larxene mutters almost venomously. Whoa, girl.

"What is it between you two, anyway," I ask curiously. Notice how my voice isn't wavering? I'm awesome.

"She made some unwanted advances on poor, defenseless Marly here," she tells me, and Marluxia rolls his eyes with more patience than I've ever seen in him. "I told her to cut it out, but for some reason she completely vilified me and thinks I threatened her!"

For some reason, this doesn't seem very likely. It's probably more like their little talk went along the lines of  _you stay away from my property, or there'll be hell to pay, bitch._  It's kinda sweet, in that bizarre, terrifying way.

"Um," I say, because I really have no idea what else to say but she's looking for an answer.

"Might I suggest we get what we came for, and then continue this inane conversation somewhere else," Marluxia asks, now sounding impatient. I  _knew_  he couldn't hold it back for long.

"Yeah, yeah," Larxene says, kinda rolling her eyes but kinda smiling too. I wonder what they're here for – but I also know I'll find out, because he just invited me along when they leave. I wonder if it's safe and/or healthy to be following them around like this; what if I'm just deluding myself? I'm so afraid of losing...whatever it is I think I have, at any given time, that I become unnecessarily attached. What if they decide I'm no longer worthy? It could happen. It probably will happen. And at that time...what am I going to do?

I can't think about this. Not here, not now. I'm getting nauseated already.

I watch Marluxia browse the seed packets – the herb section, specifically – and I figure he needs a new or better selection. He's never satisfied with his own gardens; it's a little amusing, actually. The thing he's most passionate about is the thing he's never in complete control of. I wonder if it's incidental or a conscious thing.

He picks some stuff out quickly and I don't bother to look at his selection, since I'm more into flowers than anything. When we were first friends, he helped me start my own flower garden, and it was like I was drawing on nature's canvas, but...after we stopped talking, I let him take over. Without him, it felt empty.

He goes up to pay and I go to follow him, but Larxene grabs my shoulder and  _goddamn,_  did I really just get the shivers? I mean, other than the usual ones, because lately it's been inordinately cold around here. Quietly, she says, "What's  _wrong_  with you?" I can tell she's not asking about my well-being.

I'm not sure what she  _is_  asking, though, so I go for a generic answer. "Where to begin?"

She's about to say something, or at least she's opening her mouth, but Marluxia comes back and she doesn't get the chance. I'm kinda really grateful for his timely appearance, because I don't think I want to know what she was going to ask. She'd probably get the truth without even trying, because I'm fairly certain I couldn't deny her anything, even if I wanted to. Crushes  _suck._

"Let's go," he says, and on the surface it's like he didn't see us so close, but I know he did because of his glance at Larxene. I know that look. It's passive, but inquiring if you know him and dangerous because he  _will_  get answers. It was directed at her, though, so I'm pretty safe for now.

I can see his car parked in the lot and I'm very, very glad. Larxene's mattress car is...well, I don't want to say 'sacred' and sound totally lame, but it's my head. Nobody's going to see these thoughts anyway. So yeah, sacred. Like the kind of care you can only use for special occasions or epic journeys.

...That sounds really stupid. Even more stupid than usual.

"Hurry up, little girl, Marly's going to make us breakfast," Larxene says, making spastic motions with her left hand. I don't care about breakfast, since I know it won't go in me, but I'm glad I was invited. I'm barely in the car and he zooms away. He thinks he owns the road, and at this hour, he probably does. I wonder if we'll run over Justine, but I don't know where she went.

I realize he's telling her something and I'm not sure how long I was looking out the window, but we're at his house already. I wonder where Larxene lives.

"It was one of the most pointless things we ever did. Wasn't it, Naminé?"

I nod and follow them out of the car, even though I have absolutely no idea what he was even talking about. To change the subject (and possibly save my ass from embarrassment), I ask, "What was it like where you grew up?"

"Hang on, I need to find the keys," she says. "Dammit, I think I lost them."

"This is the third time we've made spare keys, Larx," he says almost despairingly. "Can't you just keep them on a ring or something?"

So she lives here with him? I guess that explains why they're always together, but it doesn't explain why I'm randomly jealous. I'm nucking futs, apparently.

He unlocks the door as she mutters, "Key rings are tacky."

"But useful," he says dryly. "Sit down; breakfast will only be a moment."

I sit next to her at the table after she's shut the door and we've left our shoes in the hallway. We're too close for me to really be comfortable, but I wouldn't be comfortable anyway. Something weird is in the air. I'm freezing and I'm really more anxious than I should be.

"You were going to tell me what it was like in your hometown," I prompt, and I'm kinda excited about how clear my voice sounded just then. I may be shaking, but it's not  _all_  bad.

"Well, you find out pretty quickly that Hollow Bastion is a terrible city," Larxene says, folding her arms and leaning back. I can't see down her shirt anymore, but that's a good thing, probably. "You wear a bandana on your wrist, to cover up – the rash there, and you get a warning from some chick that you're going to get jumped if you don't take it off. And this is in middle school."

From the kitchen, I hear, "I'm sure it wasn't just the bandana."

"Love you too, Marlena," she says sweetly.

I say, kinda thoughtfully, "That kind of stuff is everywhere, I think. At least, I know things get bad in Twilight Town. It's probably different here because we're so isolated, and it would be pointless because we're all a big, disgusting family anyway."

"I know this is just a little happy town, but...really?  _Twilight Town?_  That's such a...peaceful place. And close-knit. Or so I've heard."

I shrug. "An employee of mine got curbed. He survived, if you can call it that. His girlfriend made him move out of town, I think...it was relieving, because I was about to replace him, and firing him in the hospital would have been in very bad taste."

"You're a frigid bitch, Naminé," Marluxia says appreciatively, appearing with a pitcher of something disturbingly green. He goes back into the kitchen again.

"It was a financial thing, not a personal thing. I'm just a businesswoman," I tell him.

Larxene makes that snorting noise again and says, "Same thing."

I'll never tell anyone how horrified I was. I mean, I knew that kid. He was just out of high school, clean-cut, perfect record, but then all of a sudden I call him to ask why he hasn't been to work in a while and his girlfriend sobs at me about reconstructive surgery and assholes and why did they do this to him and gonna fucking kill them, at which point I told her it would be a very bad idea to seek vengeance.

I couldn't even bear to look at him. I went to drop off flowers and nearly threw up, because...I knew how he'd gotten that way. I couldn't even bring myself to ask what the hell he did to deserve that, because it wasn't exactly a punch in the nose. You hear about shit like that and think it couldn't possibly exist, but it can and it does and it makes you lose a little more faith in the shitty species called 'homo sapiens.' The world is a fuckhole, but you want to believe decent people can survive here. And then you figure out nobody's decent. Some people are just better at hiding it than others.

I think that's really when I started hating people. Really, sincerely, unalterably hating them. I can only stand the ones who don't hide how sick they are. Point of fact, I hate myself just as much, because I can't rise above my own humanity.

"I suppose you're right," I tell her, because I mean it when I say I'm never going to tell that to anyone. I think I'd start bawling, or throw up, and maybe I could have shared it with Kairi, but she's gone and even right now, at this moment, the weight of that is pressing down on me so hard my voice is wavering again. To change the subject, I add, "But I bet you're no better, Marluxia. You run your own business; you should know about making decisions like that."

Setting plates on the table, he replies, "Of course I do, but this is Traverse Town. Nothing ever happens here that would warrant a reaction like that. To be honest, I didn't believe that was something people really did, and I used to be the kind of person who might do it."

Hearing him admit that is both unsettling and endearing to me. I look down at my plate and force back a cringe;  _ew._  Grapes, melons, some weird herbs or something, a suspicious dark not-chocolate creamy substance, and what I think is ricotta cheese. Blech. I mix some of the fruit and the dark stuff and push it around a little. "Well, I didn't believe it either, until then." Is it just me, or is it getting a little hot in here?

I look up from my plate after a much longer silence than necessary and find two pairs of eyes on me, staring at me. It's very nerve-wracking and my voice cries when I say, "Can I help you?"

"Try it," he says pointedly. "It's Larxene's recipe."

"Um...maybe a little later," I say. God, I wasn't thinking about this. I'm way too nervous right now; it's hot and now that they're looking at me, I'm kinda shaking. I feel about three inches tall, and regardless of what the caterpillar says, it's  _not_  a good height to be. "I'm not really hungry."

"Oh, come on," Larxene says, giving me this horrible grin I'd like to block out of my memory.

"No, really," I say, trying to smile big for her.

She rolls her eyes and grabs my fork and brings it close to my face like she's going to force-feed me and I know she's probably not going to, but something's creeping into me. This hasn't happened in so long; I thought maybe I was  _cured,_  maybe coming back to Traverse Town was the answer Lorazepam didn't give me, but they're looking at me and I'm shaking and  _dammit,_  the earth...

Fuck.

Kairi, Marluxia, Larxene, food, Kairi, Jake's ruined face, food...I can't breathe.

I push her hand away and I stand up but then I can't stand anymore, because the walls are moving and the table can't support me. My lungs are turning to stone and my eyes are being pulled out of their sockets and I thought this part, where the big ones happen, was over years ago. I thought it was just the earth breathing, but now it's the entire universe, crashing into me and suffocating me.

The stars are in my eyes and gravity is everywhere and my lungs have either turned completely into stone or are so full of dirt they can't work, but either way, the earth has ruined me. I can't concentrate. I can't think. And it's so stupid, I should be better than this, but I can't talk myself out of it because who am I to control the universe? It's impossible, I'm impossible.

Larxene's lips are moving, but I have no idea what she's saying. I think Marluxia's trying to touch me but my body's twisting and my soul is moving away, like I'm turning into a ghost.

I like it here. Everything's colors and I want them to stop, because the more they interact with that body the closer I am to being in it again.

I don't want to go back.

Larxene is brilliant, intoxicating jade green. It's trying to reach me, but that's futile, because I'm a ghost now. Only the body is still there, fighting them; and it's useless anyway, so vulnerable to everything. The body can get hurt, but nothing can hurt me here; the green will never reach me, but I can look at it.

Marluxia is a delicate carnleian orange. It's amusing, because it's a nurturing color; warm and safe. But Marluxia is not a nurturing person. He doesn't provide warmth and safety. He's probing, searching for me, but he will not find me either.

Larxene gathers her jade around herself and smacks the body's face, hard, and I'm being sucked –  _no! –_  down a hole, into a vortex, through the void and into this body. My lungs hurt and I think I'm crying but I think I can breathe. I think the universe left me when it realized it couldn't hurt me.

I wrap my arms around myself and I want to stop existing, because they had to see me like that. I thought that was over. I thought the delusions, or whatever they are, were getting smaller; getting better. I got so good at talking myself out of them; what happened? What was different?

I need to throw up, but I don't know if anything will even come out. I can't look up. Why can't I disappear? Why can't I shrink into nothing? Three inches high would be a very nice height.

"Are you done," Larxene asks, and there's something in her voice much too close to compassion for me to be comfortable. At least her words were irritable.

"I...yes," I say, and when I finally look up they're not laughing at me. They're not even looking at me. It's like they're letting me get dressed and they'll only look when I'm not naked anymore. It makes me cry a little more, but it's not like anybody could notice. I can feel my hands stuck into little open-ended rectangle shapes, like they always get when I can't breathe, but I'm starting to get some feeling in them again.

I wipe my eyes and smooth my shirt and sit in my chair again and tell them, "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

When Larxene turns to face me she's scowling.

"You need to eat," she says, and even though it's a nightmare, something in this is making me swell. It's perverse, it's disgusting, it's abnormal. I won't promise her anything, not right now, but that swell...for the first time, I understand. She's a bitch, and she's dangerous, but she just proved... _she just proved she cares._

And that's what I'll hold onto, next time I feel like I'm slipping away.


	22. Stupid and Contagious

 

I need to do something. I'm going stir-crazy in here, but I can't go out because I might run into Larxene or Marluxia or both. That would be a disaster and a half, for reals. It might have felt okay for a while after my little scene at Marluxia's, but...it wasn't okay. I can't face them anymore.

In the five days since I left their house, this little seed of discomfort has grown into a giant monster akin to the Audrey II. It's going to keep growing and then ruin me, I swear.

The phone is hot on my cheek as I roll onto my side. The ring is tinny and annoying in my ears and for some reason, I feel like crying or some other stupid shit. I'm kinda like praying or something, that he'll pick up, cuz I'm not so sure I can take this anymore.

"Platt," he says.

I suddenly feel like hanging up. What made me think I could do this? I haven't really talked to him since we last saw each other, except some stupid text conversation about his sister and how awesome my advice is.

I hear him sigh, kinda like a parent. "I know you're there, Naminé," he tells me flatly. "Answering at all is simply a formality. What do you want?"

"I," I begin. "Um."

"Well?"

I can tell he's irritated. I don't really know why, and I'd rather hear about him than talk about me, so I ask, "How are you doing?"

"I'm very busy," he says. There's a short pause and he adds, "You sound very odd. Why are you calling?"

Yeah, I know I sound 'odd.' It's because I'm trying really hard not to sound like that pathetic girl who called and told him she took too many pills, and I'm trying not to cry. There's not even a real reason; I'm just...bleh. I. Hate. This.

"I just...um, I guess I just wanted to hear your voice," I say lamely. God, can I get any more stupid? This is a goddamn nightmare.

"Right, and I'm a daisy. Try again."

"I," I say. I can't get farther than that, apparently. I don't know what it is I want to tell him or ask him or anything. It's just...maybe it really is that I wanted to hear his voice, somebody familiar and safe and easy to talk to. And whoa, that's so...when did I get so pathetic?

"Naminé." His voice is sharp, like he's reprimanding me. It always makes me feel better for some reason, if I'm getting a talking-to or like a punishment or something. Like I can change my inherent retardedness with behavior modification therapy, or...whatever, whatever.

"Sorry," I murmur. "I'm a bit out of whack today."

"Clearly," he says dryly.

"I really just need...something. I'm not sure what."

"Let me know when you are. In the meantime, I'm kind of-"

"I'm pathetic," I blurt suddenly. I don't know where it came from, and I don't really like interrupting people because then I have to actually say stuff, but this is Zexion. My best friend. The only one who really, truly makes me feel at home in the way nobody else can. "I'm pathetic and I'm really losing control and I have this feeling that my dad is nuts or something, or at least hates me, and I haven't called you because I was kinda going to not be your friend anymore except I really want to, but there's this thing with Marluxia where he saw me totally lose it and I...kinda wish it had been you, instead, because there was nothing after that. You would have done something. Even if it was mean and hurtful, you would have done something."

What. The fuck.

The weirdest thing of all, I'm not embarrassed or anything because it's  _true._  I would have been better at dealing with this had it been him instead. I wouldn't have avoided him like I am with Marluxia and Larxene, because I would know what he thought. If he thought I was pathetic, he'd tell me, and if he thought I needed to be locked up in the crazy house, he'd tell me that, too. Maybe he'd even hug me or something, if he was feeling disgustingly sweet, but then we'd both be embarrassed so probably not.

"Oh," he says. He sounds completely different, like...he's been pushed off guard, or they just said Christmas is canceled in favor of National Naminé Day.

"I'm sorry," I say, kinda glumly. "I don't...really know where that came from. I just...wanted, to...talk to you, about...so...yeah." Hear that stream in my voice? I  _hate_  that stream. It needs to fuck off, for reals.

Quietly, he asks, "What's going on, Naminé?"

I know I should tell him. I  _know._  It's hard, though. What am I supposed to say? I had a panic attack in front of my ex best friend and the girl I happen to be, y'know, something like crushing on, and they didn't say anything, and now I'm running away like a pussy schoolgirl? And my dad's being an asshole and I'm starting to wonder if maybe he always was one? Well, actually, that's probably a good enough answer. Better than  _I just wanted to hear your voice,_  ooh.

Okay, Naminé. Don't fuck this up now.

"I...had a panic attack. In public. Larxene saw. I bet she thinks I'm stupid now."

"Ah." I wait for him to keep going, since really, he's smarter than I am and will tell me what to do. Hopefully. And if he doesn't, at least he'll put it into perspective for me. "You were serious about her?"

I'm about to say  _that's obvious,_  but then I realize, it probably isn't. I haven't even thought about what I want from her, except that I want her to look at me, and am I even serious about her? Crushes don't really count for anything. Crushes are just...like you're admiring someone, but you're not in love. So, is he right? Am I even serious?

Well, if I wasn't serious, why would I be so broken up about this? The truth is, I probably wouldn't give a fuck if it wasn't for her. Marluxia has seen me wasted, has seen me naked, has seen me break down emotionally for stupid reasons (for example: when I hid at his house for three days because I got a C on an assignment in ninth grade, and I thought my high school career was over). He's seen me after being in the mountains and not showering for five days. He's seen me cry over my mom and over Kairi. So yeah, I wouldn't care if it were just him.

It's Larxene. That must mean I'm serious about her, in at least some small capacity.

"Yes," I say finally. "I think I was."

"Then you shouldn't care," he tells me, all business. "She'd find out eventually anyway. If she doesn't accept who you are, we can always kill her."

"Zexion!" I don't know why I'm appalled; it's not as though we haven't joked about that stuff before, and sometimes I've even thought about how we'd pull it off. "We can't kill her. People would notice."

I still don't feel better, but I feel like I can act better, and that's better than nothing.

"I know."

He sounds so...old. Like the world is pressing on him. I don't like it; that's not how it should go for him. Before I can ask him about it, he says, "And what's this about your dad?"

"Ah, he's getting married, and he didn't tell me. I tried to bring it up to him, and he just brushed me aside, like  _oh,_  it's totally normal to forget your daughter. You're still invited, so what's the problem? I know it's petty, but I just...I feel like I deserved to know. I'm the one who got him to reconsider Lisa, after all, and I know it was my fault in the first place, but I..."

"It wasn't  _your_  fault. Don't give yourself so much credit. Your father makes his own decisions. If you ask me, he's never been much of a dad to you anyway."

"I  _didn't_  ask you," I tell him, and I feel defensive but I don't know why. I curl my knees to my chest and scowl, also for no reason.

"I'm pretending you did. He's an ass, Naminé, and I'm surprised you haven't noticed. Everything he does is to keep up pretense. It's none of my business, but you know how I feel about parents..."

Yeah. I do. I mean, with his parents, he has more of a right than anyone to hate irresponsible parents, but "My dad's not like that. I mean, he..."

"Why did she leave him?"

"What?"

"Your mother. Why did she leave him? What did they fight about?"

Why the fuck is he bringing this up? He always has a point, so it's not...I know I have to listen to him, whether or not I like or understand where he's going, because he's smarter than me and he's my best friend. It's just really weird, and it's  _not_  making me feel any better. I curl up a little tighter.

"She was always yelling at him.  _Of course I slept with him, you're never forthcoming. You don't care; you don't even bother to lie about caring. She needs help, and you've just made it impossible..._ oh." I frown. "Okay, so what she said makes it sound bad, granted, but it's not like she was the one who stuck around for me."

"I don't give a flying fuck who was in the right," he says sharply. Ugh, this is his angry voice. "They were both terrible parents."

I swallow and feel that stinging behind my nose, like in my nasal cavities, that means I'm about to cry. "Why are you saying this?"

"Because he's hurting you," he tells me, and his tone kinda says he'd rather not but he's already started so he might as well finish. "I'm tired of seeing you look up to someone who doesn't deserve it. If he had been a good father, he would have tried to find you instead of waiting for you to contact him. He would have asked you why you were leaving. He would have paid for school lunches and bought your textbooks. He would have noticed something was wrong after your confrontation with that Sora kid's relatives. He would have known about your best friend, and he would have found a way to help you. You don't have to be upset that he's shutting you out, because it's not your fault. You haven't hurt him, you don't owe him anything, and he doesn't deserve that."

Now I am crying. Dammit, why is it that Zexion always says the right thing at the wrong time? Why is it that the right thing always  _comes_  at the wrong time? He's right, I know he is, but this giant part of me is just shaking its head,  _no,_  you're wrong. He's my dad. All of those things that Zexion said are correct, but it feels wrong to think them.

Like he didn't pay for school stuff because he wanted me to be independent. He didn't try to find me because he wanted me to...be independent. He didn't mention my struggles because he...wanted me to be independent?

Goddamn. He was trying to get rid of me, or at least have nothing to do with me. God _damn._

"Oh," I say.

"Yeah,  _oh,"_  he mimics.

"You're an asshole, Zexion."

"You say this like I don't know it already. You're the one who puts up with me."

While this makes me smile, I can still hear the tension in his voice. He's been focusing on me, on my petty little issues, but something's going on and...okay, yes, I do care. I could explain it to myself as being nosy or whatever, but let's be honest here. I want to know because he always fixes me, no matter what, and he deserves more than what I give him.

Hot damn, I'm just being nice all over the place. It's an affliction. I hope it'll go away soon.

"Zexion..." I decide to just go for it. "What's wrong with you?"

Uh. Not so much with the tact, I guess, but at least now it's out there. He might try to sneak around the fact that he has an issue, or maybe I'm just overreacting, but I do know him, and...yeah, so there.

There's something like but not quite a gasp from the other end and just like that, my stomach does this stupid little dance. Kinda like it's throwing up onstage and slipping on its own vomit, and  _ew,_ mental images, Naminé. What the fuck, for reals.

"I'm not sure I should tell you," he says slowly, obviously searching for the perfect words, and I kinda want to hit him. But there's the problem of, y'know, distance and shit.

"You really helped me," I half-lie, "so you know you can accept my help in return, right?" Okay, where is this coming from? I'm still kinda angry at him. He's a total ass. Plus, he's an ass who might be right about something I'd rather he be wrong about. Damn him. But still, I'm not lying or anything. He's my best friend. I wonder if it's a bad thing that I have to keep reminding myself of that.

"Look, I..." After a pause, he continues, "Do you remember my former student, Darla Mackenzie?"

I unball and stretch out on my side. My bones crack and I say, "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

"She has been...causing problems." Ooh, I do  _not_  like that delicate tone of his. Eek.

I go for a joke, because what else can I do? "Is she finally rhapsodizing her undying love to you, Professor?"

Darkly, he tells me, "The girl is delusional. There's been an inquiry."

Oh. Oh  _shit._  And here I am, thinking I have problems, thinking my feelings are all important, but my bullshit...fucking  _hell,_  this is...

"The fuck is her problem," I blurt before I can stop myself. "I mean, okay, she's delusional, but...and what's wrong with whoever's 'inquiring,' anyway?"

I don't even know if I understand the situation fully, but I do understand that an inquiry at work is a potential death sentence for everything Zexion lives for. Zexion loves three things: teaching, his sister, and having control over his own life. First there was the thing with Fuu...the world apparently decided he was a great person to hate. I don't believe in karma, but even if I did, I don't think he'd deserve to...maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe it isn't as big a deal as I think it is.

"It's standard procedure, Naminé," he says, but his tone and speed tell me it's a reactionary sentence. Like he's told himself the same thing a zillion times.

"But you set the standard," I say. Whoops. I'm feeling too sentimental here. God, that's embarrassing. "What I mean is, you're the best teacher they've got, I'm sure, and you're always professional. Remember that one time you took me as your date to that bullshit party teacher thing? The other teachers even commented on it, how professional you are, how they thought you weren't capable of having an outside life."

And yeah, he's a professional asshole the rest of the time, but I'm pretty sure they don't know that.

"It's-"

"Standard procedure, I know," I tell him kinda quietly. Again, I don't really know why I keep doing that with my voice, because it's not like my tone will make things better. "Just so we're on the same page here, she's...making advances or something, and even though you're not responding, she's making it seem like you are?"

"Yeah, I..." He sighs. I feel really, really bad about that sigh. It sounds all sad and...tired. "First this thing with Fuu, and now this thing with Darla. It's not reflecting well on my character or my parenting skills, no matter what the truth or reasons are. And on top of that, I'm not married – I'm not even dating anyone. Single parents are..."

So...he thinks...ugh. Okay, I know why this is frustrating him. "You're not going to lose Fuu," I say. "If they think it will be better for her if you're different or she's away from you, they can fuck themselves. You don't need a wife."

At least, that's what he's always said.

"I think...maybe it would..." This pause has got me really anxious.

"Zexion?"

"If it came down to it, would you marry me?"

"Uh." I blink. I don't know why, because it's not going to make that go away or become understandable all of a sudden. "What?"

"You could still continue pursuing your Larxene, or whomever you choose," he continues, and it sounds like it's coming easily now – like it was some split second decision he actually agrees with, and I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it was. "It would just look good in public. You wouldn't have to move, or share your space, just as long as it looked like we were-"

"Yeah," I say, before I realize what I'm saying. "Yeah, if it came down to it."

Funny thing is, I would. It's not even a lie. I'm not really sure if that makes me a good friend or a fucking idiot, but maybe it doesn't matter? Goddamn, does this make me  _engaged?_

I hear him laugh a little and I realize I just said that last part out loud. Whoops. "No, I...it's only a last-ditch thing. Perhaps a Hail-Mary pass? You don't want to marry me, and I don't want to marry you, and I..."

"This will come to a close one way or the other," I tell him when I realize he's not going to say anything else. "Darla's a delusional bitch and everybody who knows you professionally knows you're...well, professional. I'm not going to say don't worry about it, but..."

"Yeah, I know."

I'm really glad he does, because I really have no words. My brain just kinda jumped tracks because it's  _nighttime_  o'clock right now and it wasn't when I called him. What the hell.

"Do you need me to come back," I ask. "I can. I can pack up right now and be on a plane by six a.m." Part of me hopes he's going to say yes, because then I could get the fuck out of here. But a little part of me hopes he says no, because I'm kinda sick of being a pansy and running all the time. I don't really know where it's coming from, though. Maybe the part of me that still wishes I had a chance with Larxene, who probably likes girls who can take care of themselves and stand up to her.

"No," he replies. "The situation isn't as dire as I initially felt it was. Anxiety is never conducive to logic, and you've talked me down."

He's not going to thank me, just like I'm not going to thank him. But I know he's thinking it. He's my best friend, after all. "Well, keep me posted. And if you need me to...um, even if it's just a text, I'll come back when you need me to."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were looking for a way out of there," he says. Asshole.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were calling me a fraidy-cat," I reply.

"Hey," he says, and his tone is so gentle it's disturbing. Goddamn, Zexion,  _stop that._  "Stay. Figure out your shit with your dad, see Larxene again. If it's hopeless, get the hell out of Dodge, but you should never make a move without all the information. That can start wars, you know."

"Yes, Professor," I say tonelessly.

"I'm hanging up now," he tells me.

"Yeah, me too. Let me know if-"

Goddamn, I wish he'd let me finish. But I guess it makes sense. Sometimes, if things get too sentimental, he can't handle it. It's like he's allergic to good moods and overt friendship. It's kinda cute.

I wouldn't mind marrying him, I guess. I hope I don't have to, because  _ew,_  but...yeah. I've always thought it wouldn't be a bad way to spend my life. And maybe I could someday fall in love with him, like I've always sort of wished I could do.

Ha. Like  _that_  will ever happen. Now I know why he hung up so fast.

I drop my phone on the floor and roll onto my back. I spread my arms wide and just...stare at the ceiling. I have a lot of shit to process. I'm sorta afraid I won't be able to handle it when it's all sorted. My brain is just not that powerful, and my heart is kinda, y'know, shriveled.

"Naminé?"

Fuck.

It's totally irrational, but suddenly the sound of my dad's voice makes me want to hit something. Preferably something very solid. Maybe because Zexion said he wasn't a great dad, and I'm sorta wondering if he's right?

"Coming," I say, but I know he won't be able to hear me from all the way downstairs. I don't give a damn.

I pull myself off my bed and a glance in the hallway mirror makes me almost cringe. God, have I always been this unattractive? Well, I guess it's good that I never have to look at myself. Makes sense that my outsides would match my insides, anyway; I'm not completely delusional. I know I have a nasty personality.

I don't take my time on the stairs. I never do. As soon as I reach the bottom, he says, "Someone's at the door for you." I have to stop myself from comparing him to other dads I've met or have read about. Dammit, Zexion.

I'm kinda more interested in the person at the door anyway. Who'd be calling for me? Justine left three days ago, and nobody else would come here.

I open the door – god, even  _I_  know it's rude to shut the door completely on a guest – and I have to blink several times because seriously, what the hell.

"Hey," Larxene says.


	23. A Piece Of Who I Was

 

I don't really want to slam the door in her face, but at the same time, I kinda do. I mean, what the hell. I've been avoiding her for almost a week which, you know, pretty much means I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to see her but I was just thinking I want to stop being such a pussy and she apparently wants to see me – and I'm not totally in control of myself when I step aside and say, "Would you like to come in?"

"Yeah." I notice some things. First, she's shaking. Second, her eyes are all red, like she's been rubbing them. And third, she's only halfway dressed. It's way surprising because she's  _always_ dressed. And dressed well, at that.

When she's fully inside, I shut the door and call to my dad, "My friend is going to stay here for a while." I don't really care what he says, but it's kind of comforting when he says okay anyway. I'd let her stay, but maybe Larxene would be uncomfortable?

Ha. She's no Zexion. She doesn't care for manners and shit like that.

I begin to say, "Are you okay?" But  _whoa,_  that glare stops me at  _you_  and I'm pretty sure I don't want to continue to dig this hole. So I give her this kinda bizarre smile, which I hope she takes to mean  _follow me_  (because it does), and start up the stairs. I can feel her behind me and I know this is totally stupid, but my breath is kinda speeding up on its own.

She follows me, all quiet, into my room and I feel special, which makes absolutely no sense. I mean, I was just feeling pathetic and totally useless, but now…bah. Moods are stupid, and I hate them.

She shuts the door. I feel trapped. I'm obviously sick, because I totally dig it.

"You haven't been around in a while," she tells me. It's all accusing and I might be defensive or something, but I'm distracted because  _she's in my room._  I'm watching her look around  _my room_ and now she's sitting down in  _my chair_  like she totally belongs. God, that's sexy.

...What. The hell. It really shouldn't be. I'm clearly a lunatic.

"I...know," I say. I think she broke my brain a little. She's stretching like a little cat, only she's bigger than me, and I'm standing here like a moron trying to think of what I was doing before.

Oh yeah. I should probably sit down. Duh.

I sit on my bed, against the pillows, and turn on my side so I can face her. I suddenly feel so small and uncomfortable in my pajamas and I want to put on some clothes, but all I have clean are Kairi skirts and for some reason I don't want to wear them in front of her anymore. I don't know why.

Now that I think about it, they shouldn't even fit anymore. I mean, I  _did_  go through a growth spurt when I hit sixteen, and now they're closer to band-aids than skirts, but...

Well, anyway, that's not the point. Her lips are moving, which means I need to be listening now.

"-wondering about it. I told him you were just in hiding, but he insisted we had to see you."

"So...why isn't he here with you?"

She looks away from me completely and I'm not really sure I want her to. She doesn't look confident or anything. Obviously something's wrong, and nothing should ever be wrong for her because she's a total goddess. And sexy. And she's sexier when she's in charge.

"He's in the hospital. Something...something's wrong, and I think it's my fault. I think I did it."

My stomach kinda drops. It's a weird feeling and I hate it. It's just that I remember saying the same exact thing to Sora.  _Kairi's in the hospital...I think it's my fault._  Naïvely, I'd figured it was my sorry attempt at sushi that made Kairi sick and that Sora would never forgive me because they were supposed to go on a date the next day.

I guess I sorta felt guilty for wanting her to still be sick at that time, so the date would be canceled. I played it off to myself as protectiveness, or practicality – I mean, we were fourteen, nobody should be dating at that age because it's silly – but the true truth was that I was jealous. That was where the guilt came from, mostly.

But I don't think it's the same. I just can't help remembering and I want to say something helpful or...something. "What did you do?"

Okay, that was 'or something.' Especially since my tone was unintentionally accusing. I know I'm not panicking because I don't know how bad the situation is and I've seen him in the hospital before, but if something happens to him for real...I'm not sure I could cope.

"He was in the middle of a big project, so he asked me to pick up some prescription from the store," she tells me, and I'm pretty sure it's a testament to her worry that she's not even glaring at me for the accusation. "I forgot about it and I told him I'd get it in the morning, and then I forgot again, and then something happened. Nobody will tell me what the hell's going on." She sounds mad now. "We're practically married, for Christ's sake, why can't they just..."

Relief is totally flooding my heart right now. Not that I have much of one to begin with, and maybe that's why it's overflowing, and what's with the imagery anyway? Well, whatever. I'm just glad it's this.

"This project...had to do with his garden?"

"Yeah, he's reseeding a part of it and messing with his tomatoes all day...why do you ask?" She looks at me and it's so irritated it kinda takes my breath away, only not really since that only happens in stupid romance novels and lame '80s songs. "Do  _you_  know what's going on, little girl?"

Why is it that I like that nickname so much? By all rights, I should be insulted; I'm older than she is, and arguably more responsible, and...but yeah, it makes my stomach flutter. Stupid crush, making me even more stupid than usual.

"It's happened before," I tell her. "Those pills...he's very, very allergic to plants. If he's cooking, he's okay, but gardening...it's different. The handling and atmosphere are different. He's actually kind of allergic to everything, and the pills help with that. He also has shots and a nebulizer, but he was probably too breathless...or unconscious...to tell you about them."

"That's stupid," she says, and it's kinda startling. I totally did  _not_  jump, and if she saw it, she was hallucinating. Some people do that. "Why couldn't he just tell me what the stupid pills were for? And why wouldn't they tell me?"

I feel comfortable with this line of questioning, because I've had more experience with hospital procedure than I'd like. It would be kinda tragic, except tragedies are boring. "They wouldn't tell you because you're not related to him and you aren't actually married. They have to have her...I mean his permission to..."

Did I actually just make that mistake? Fuck. I'm  _not_  talking about Kairi. I'm just  _not._  I don't talk about her, ever, because it always makes me all  _emotional._  And besides, it was just a slip of the tongue because I'm not even thinking about her. I mean I am now, but I wasn't before. It's not like I base my life around her. I  _don't._

"Since he's unconscious, he can't permit you to see him," I finish. I feel very stupid, but that's pretty much how I feel whenever I'm around her anyway. Small, stupid, weak. Secretly, I think I like it. Because I'm a crazy person.

Softly, she asks, "Why didn't he tell me about this?"

I  _hate_  this tone. I'd rather she be angry, like she was just a little while ago. Anger, I can handle. I don't know how to handle someone who seems so unshakeable and then suddenly seems so vulnerable, because I'm by myself. I don't have someone smarter here – like Marluxia – backing me up.

I tug on the edge of my white shirt and then bend my right index finger with my left hand. I'm pretty sure this little habit is going to end with a broken finger one of these days, but I haven't broken it yet. Yeah, I'm nervous.

"Probably because...he has..." God, I'm a space case. I'm so nervous I can't even remember what I was about to say, because I'm thinking of her potential reactions to my words and if she gets mad at me will she hit me or something? I'd be okay if she did, because I need somebody to slap me into reality because  _finish your sentence, dumbass._  "A hard time admitting he's human, just like everyone else. He's not proud of his dependence on meds for a stable life."

She's really quiet and I look up to see something like a betrayed expression on her face, and I don't know what to do with that. I mean, I'd never betray her. Is it me? What did I do? I'll take it back if she wants.

"He's a stupid ass," she says kinda venomously. It gives me the shivers, and that's better than thinking about Kairi so I'm totally going to run with it.

"I'm not so sure," I reply. Running with it? Yes. She has to keep being mean, and it's going to happen if I argue. Probably. Hopefully.

"I am."

"I think he's great."

"You  _would."_

Okay, not only was that dark, but it was also extremely mood-killing. I don't know why, but  _that_ kind of tone...goddamn, Naminé, make up your mind. Are you going to like being confronted, or are you going to run away like a little pussy every time it gets intense?

"What is  _that_  supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." She makes a face at me. "Laisse béton."

I kinda want to tell her that I don't speak French, but she'll probably laugh at me. So I'm just going to drop it and hope that's what she just told me to do.

I don't like this silence.

I like quiet, and I can even handle silence if I'm by myself and not thinking too hard, but this kind of silence, with her looking at me like that...I swear, if I believed in reincarnation, I'd think she was a hawk or something in a past life. Some kind of predatory creature with sharp eyes and deadly body parts.

Or maybe a ninja.

Anyway, it doesn't matter, because I don't believe in reincarnation. I don't even know why I'm considering this shit, because it makes no sense. Maybe just to I don't go nuts feeling her eyes on me. I don't know what she's looking for, but I bet she can't find it. I'm more or less deficient in most ways.

I look away and bend my finger again.

"Don't do that," she says.

"Do what?" Why can't I look up from my hands? I really should. Any minute now I will. Any minute now...

"Don't play with me."

...Now's that minute. "What are you  _talking_  about? I'm not playing with you. You're the player; I'm just the piece that keeps getting moved and has no idea what's even going on."

What the fuck? I hate metaphors, and I'm not even angry, but I sure sounded like it. Also, she shouldn't confuse me, because I say stupid shit like that.

"Maybe if you weren't so secretive, we'd get along better," she tells me, and I sorta squint at her. I'm trying to make an angry face, but I think this one gets a failing grade.

"Maybe if  _you_  weren't such a bitch. You came to  _me,_  remember? What do you even want from me?"

I think I must just feel antagonistic because of my conversation with Zexion. I mean, I never really resolved that, and Larxene always makes me feel kinda worthless, and usually I'd probably be cowering in a corner of my brain like I was just a minute ago but I can't even control myself right now. I'm looking at this through glass or something, or like this is on a parlor wall in Fahrenheit 451.

"I want you to – just stop it." She frowns at me. "It's annoying, the way you play nice. I know how much of a bitch you can be. Remember Lea?"

I feel my stomach curling. I'm...embarrassed. Goddamn, moods, can't you just stay stable for five seconds? I don't  _want_  to be a crazy bitch!

With nothing good to say, I just mumble, "His name's Axel now."

"It always was," she scoffs. "Personally, I liked him better when he was crossdressing. As a woman, he's sorta hot. As a man, he's really fugly."

Okay, first of all, she can  _not_  lecture me about playing; her moods are apparently just as unstable as mine. She sounded  _amused_  right there. Or...or maybe she's just reacting like I did, trying to focus on anything else. Having your best friend in the hospital is hard.

Second, ha. Fugly is a stupid word, and I can't believe she just said it!

"Don't laugh at me, it's true," she says.

"Yeah, but it's still funny," I reply, and I don't know why, because  _I'm_  not amused. It's like when I'm not panicking, my moods just match the ones around me. Like I don't have my own feelings or something.

She looks at me like...I dunno, we have an understanding or something (which makes no sense because there was nothing to understand), and now she's standing up and coming over. Without my consent my body does its little curling thing. I'm like a pillbug or something, curling up whenever somebody comes close. Except Zexion, but he's really like an extension of myself, a male version of me who just happens to be much better and much smarter.

...Maybe that's why I can't fall in love with him.

She looks at me like she's expecting something and I blurt, "I might be getting married."

What. The fuck. Worst thing to say around a crush, realized or not. Goddamn, I'm like an imbecile, only more ridiculous.

She frowns and says, "What?"

Whoo, I have a chance to backtrack, if my mouth will cooperate. "My best friend, Zexion...he's facing some kind of...inquiry at work...one of his former students is pissed because he didn't...well, respond to her advances...and he takes care of his little sister because his  _parents were complete assholes_  and...if it gets too bad, if I marry him, it'll help?"

Am I asking her for clarification, or telling her? I don't have to walk on eggshells, and what does that even mean? It makes no sense. If one were to walk on eggshells, the crunchy sound would be loud and annoying, which isn't exactly conducive to a peaceful atmosphere.

But now that I think about it, very few accepted colloquialisms make a  _lick_  of sense.

Anyway, I don't have to be so careful; she's not going to slit my throat. Even if she wanted to, my dad knows she's here. It would look kinda suspicious. She's a smart girl. I  _do_  think she'd look gorgeous, with my blood on her, and  _whoa,_  let's not get off track, Naminé.

"So, you're not like...in love with him?"

"No!" That sounded too excited to be allowed. "He's my best friend though. I'd do anything for him, short of burning my work."

She gives me this horrible smirk I'm thoroughly enjoying, for some reason. "Rather narcissistic, isn't it?"

"No," I reply easily. "But really...my art is who I am. If I destroy that, he doesn't have a best friend anymore."

Holy...that's  _true._  I was trying to be all glib, but it failed. Goddamn, it's annoying to have revelations in the middle of a conversation.

"Well, that's just sad."

And speaking of revelations. That condescending tone? Not going to fool me anymore.

"Hey," I say quietly. I look away again because if I'm completely wrong about this, she'll probably hate me and I don't think I can handle seeing that in her. "He's going to be fine. I've watched him recover before. He'll be back to normal soon."

"Easy for  _you_  to say. Weren't you the one telling us how heartless you are?"

"Yeah, it's easy for me to say. It's not like he has  _cancer,"_  I say spitefully without my own permission. Immediately, I sorta do this flinching thing, and if she's looking at me I know she saw it. Since she's now practically sitting in my lap, I'm sure she  _felt_  it.

"My, my, do I detect some bitterness?" She nudges me with one shoulder. I feel like knifing her, which isn't good. "Do tell."

I don't know why I'm suddenly so riled up. People don't really shake me like this. Yeah, I get irritated a lot, and sometimes I fantasize about hurting them, but I'm feeling this strong urge to do something violent and irreversible to her. It isn't a good thing, but it just keeps getting worse and now she's prying about  _Kairi_  and goddamn, I'm not some kind of plaything!

I look up at her and I'm sure the look on my face is angry. Possibly even malevolent. "Kairi was the love of my life," I say, and I'm almost shouting but I can't stop it. "She was my best friend and my everything and she was the glue that held our little group together. She was intelligent and sweet and she had the worst fashion sense in the entire world, but she was still beautiful all the time."

She looks like she's about to say something and I want to hear it. I want her to say anything, talk me down. But my mouth just opens on its own and I continue, "Our lives were perfect. Sora and Riku were always there to tease us or hang with us or buy us things, even though we didn't need it. Sora liked Kairi too but it was okay, because if he made her happy, then...then I'd be happy too.

"Riku's mom was this weird hippie woman and he didn't have a dad, but we hung out at his house because he had a Nintendo 64. Kairi loved to play and everybody liked Kairi so we all did what she wanted to do. She had  _so much power_  over us, and she didn't even know it. Everybody loved Kairi and it was okay, because she deserved it. She was like our princess, all heart."

I stand up. I can't bear to sit any longer, especially with the way Larxene's leaning away like she can't stand what I'm saying or what I'm doing or maybe just who I am. I keep talking anyway. "But, you know, you can't have something good. It doesn't work like that. Anything that makes you happy has to be taken away, because the world is a shithole and I'm stupid anyway. I didn't deserve her. So there we are, happy and free like only kids can be, and then she has stomach problems and her dad can't afford to take her to a city doctor. He tells her to suck it up, it'll go away.

"She's happy anyway, because we're all with her, and then suddenly she's down on the ground and they take her away and surprise! You win pancreatic cancer! Nobody gets it that young, _nobody,_  but of course life has to shit on even the best of us. She spends the next little while _planning her own funeral._  So yeah, it's easy for me to say Marluxia's going to be fine. He's going to be home in a few days. But Kairi?"

I give her a dirty look, but I can feel my knees getting weak and embarrassingly, I slump to the floor in an awkward half-kneeling half-sitting position. "She's never coming back. She's kinda lucky. The world's a  _shithole,_  and she doesn't have to deal with it. But we do. I do. I have to brave this without her because I didn't deserve her and I didn't deserve Sora and Riku either, because they left."

"Then they're assholes," she says dismissively. I feel like getting up and shaking her, but I realize there's wet in my eyes. Fuck, I'm  _crying._  Way to look impressive, Naminé. I don't even want to. Right now, I want Kairi. I want her to tell me what to do, like she always did. I'm tired of failing to know how to live my life.

"They're not. At least Sora's not," I tell her. I sound really pathetic. Which I am.

I can see her peripherally, walking toward me. She stops and lifts her leg and for a second I think she's going to kick me, or step on me, and I kinda want her to. Maybe if she steps on me, it'll be like closure. Like some kind of physical representation of where I fit into the world.

But she just scratches the back of her leg and puts her foot down again. Then she kneels on the ground next to me and I wish she wouldn't, because I feel so stupid. I just ranted about Kairi, right in front of her. I wanted to make her feel better and I just ended up making a spectacle.

"Hey," she says, and that tone doesn't belong in her voice. Her voice always sounds mocking, but this is...quiet. Not in volume, but something else. I really don't like it.

I look up at her, but I can't meet her eyes. One of these days, I will, but it's not going to be today. "What?"

"Marly told me your Sora's a hero, but he didn't explain why. I  _hate_  heroes. They focus on one goal until they accomplish it and then they move on. They do what the 'right thing' must be or worse, they just do what they're told."

I look down again. "He promised me he wouldn't move on without me."

She makes a throaty, amused sound. "Empty promises. He'll never come back for you, little girl, because he's already forgotten you."

Ouch.

The funny thing is, it's sorta making me feel better. She's being harsh and possibly inordinately cruel, but it's the truth. It's something I knew already, but I've always been too afraid to admit it to myself. Sora's not purposely an asshole – she said it so well. He went off searching for Riku, because he already knew where I was. He was trying to make sure the missing friend was okay. But if he hasn't come back after this long...

He's not ever coming back. I don't really blame him; I wouldn't come back for me. But it's a stinging, solid truth. The Sora who made that promise to me is never coming back, even if someday I see his body again.

"I know," I say.

There's a little silence here and I'm not comfortable with it, especially since she's kneeling so close to me. If I lifted my head, I could touch my face to hers. Maybe even kiss her. And this is conflicting, because I've just been talking about Kairi – crying about Kairi, even, but I still kinda want to kiss Larxene anyway.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have taken my own bullshit out on you," I tell her, even more quietly than before. This time I'm quiet because I feel really stupid and embarrassed.

My voice isn't watery though. I mean it is, because that's the sound of it naturally, but it's not wavery. It's not like a river, just a glass of water.

"I'm kinda disappointed," she tells me, and I look up in confusion. She has this little smirk on her face that gives me chills. I'm not sure which kind these are. "If you had gone on, I would have had a reason to slap you silly, which would have made  _me_  feel better."

I feel my face shifting into something like a hopeful smile. "You still can."

"That would take all the fun out of it," she replies petulantly. She grabs my forearm –  _ow –_  and yanks me to my feet as she stands. "I'm sleeping over tonight, so you're either sleeping without pillows or finding extras."

I don't roll my eyes, but I'd like to. Instead, I go to my closet and pull two pillows from the top shelf. I can barely reach it, so they fall on me, and she laughs. I like it when she laughs at me.

I won't tell her, but I'd gladly sleep without pillows if she wanted. I'd like to see her all spread out on my bed, hogging my pillows. I wonder if she sleeps like an angel or like a child.

I can't imagine her in any ugly picture, so I'm assuming she doesn't sleep like a teenage boy.

I take the pillows to my bed and start arranging them. Offhandedly, I say, "At least you're dressed for the occasion."

"That was the  _point,"_  she says, pushing past me and falling on the bed. She rolls over and snuggles with a pillow and it's...cute. It's actually really cute, which is sort of scary, but whatever.

Being with her is making me happy, and even though it shouldn't, I'm going to run with it. I don't want to angst about Kairi, and Larxene won't let me anyway. I'll never thank her, but she's helping. In her bitchy, irritable, scary way.

"I'm mad at you, but you can lie down anyway." Like it's  _her_  bed? Apparently, it is tonight. I don't mind. She can have it.

I lie down beside her and I feel so uncomfortable, but it's not as bad as it could be. "Why are you mad at me?"

"Because Marluxia was right, and I didn't want him to be," she says. "Good night."

I frown, and I want to ask what she means, but the conversation is obviously closed. I roll over and turn off my lamp and in the dark, I can hear her breathing. I want to open the curtains to see the moon on her, but I won't. Partly because the curtains are on her side of the bed, but mostly because it's creepy to watch people sleep and I'd feel like a stalker if she didn't call me on it.

So I'm lying here next to my first crush, who now knows about the love of my life, and who may be the only person I'd ever want to kiss again, listening to her breathe. It's so bizarre. And maybe I should be scared out of my mind, but I'm not – something's changed.

I don't know what it is, or why it is, but something's changed. And I think I like it.


	24. Once Upon A Time I Was Falling In Love

 

Two days and I'm already used to waking up beside her.

I've been waking up first. Generally I'm not much of a morning person but I guess something in my body reacts to her, because I can't sleep while she's next to me. Like my subconscious won't let me. And I'm okay with it, because I was totally right –

She's  _gorgeous_  when she sleeps.

It's funny, because she looks weirdly innocent in a way I've never seen on any person. That innocence really doesn't fit with who she is by day and yeah, I sorta feel honored to see it. Like a secret that only the three of us – Larxene, Marluxia, and Naminé – know about. And maybe Axel, but he doesn't count. From what I gather, she was a lot tamer when they were pretending to be together.

Her eyes do this fluttery thing right before she wakes up – like now. I close my eyes and breathe slowly, because when she wakes up I want to pretend to be sleeping. Call me crazy, but I just want to see what she'll do. Maybe she'll leave. I hope not.

But then, I kinda hope she does.

I'll be honest, for the last couple of days...it's been hard not to think of Kairi. She's always on my mind, especially when I'm enjoying myself. It's like I can't be happy without her. But that's stupid, because it's not like she's  _really_  haunting me. It's that psychology bullshit I try to avoid as much as possible.

I feel her moving beside me and against my own counsel, I open my eyes. What can I say, I like looking at her. Also my heart's totally speeding up and if I try to fake sleep now, it'll look like – well, like I'm faking sleep. That's not only really unattractive, but also weird. I don't want her to think I'm weird.

I am, but I'd like to keep it secret for as long as possible.

She makes a little humming sound and says, "What are you thinking about?"

"You. And Kairi. And how weird I am." Goddamn. My mouth. It's like I could never lie to her. Well, I probably could, but I'd feel super bad about it. That's how I know I'm not a sociopath; I do feel guilty about lots of stuff. But I really don't want to go there this early in the morning when I've got a gorgeous woman just lying there next to me and not running away.

"Well, stop it. It's too early in the morning to think about anything except food, sex, or going back to sleep."

I'm not going to think about sex, thank you very much. Going back to sleep would be impossible, so that leaves –

"How do you feel about Burger King tater tots?"

"I'm required by my agent to answer with  _I'll eat them if I have to,_  but I'm also adding  _I have to."_

That isn't supposed to be sexy, is it? Why do I think it is? I mean, all of her is sexy, every little thing, but seriously, why  _that?_  I hate food. I hate Burger King. And I hate that the little Kairi in my head is telling me I should do unspeakable things to her.

Really? Really. It must be a little Xion in my head because Kairi would never say that and Xion's the only girl I know who can sound  _that_  innocent saying such dirty things. Oh god, I hope none of this is showing on my face.

"Well...um." Think, dammit! Be cool and confident and "Yay."

Or. You could do that. Haha, you're a dumbass.

True story: I once said yay in front of Zexion. He called me a nit. Like  _anybody_  uses that expression in this part of the country.

True story: the same thing happened with Marluxia. The exact same thing. I think it must be required of the men in my life to be weird, obnoxious, sarcastic, and sometimes jerks.

Larxene's just looking at me like what the hell, which is okay because I'd probably be thinking the same thing – I  _am_  thinking the same thing, and I'm the one who said it.

I need to get out of bed, because she's suddenly started licking her lips and I really don't want to be in the way when the predator pounces. Actually, I'd really love to be in the way, but it would probably ruin the little idyllic picture I've sketched in my head. Where Larxene is my friend and I'm not  _really_  attracted to her and she's helping me heal. Plus, my dad's still here. He has good hearing. Being torn apart by Larxene isn't something I necessarily want him to know about.

I'm a good girl. Being good is what good girls do. Begging for demolition is not what good girls do and  _whoa,_  let's not go there right now. Bad Naminé. Think about something else. Flowers? No! Marluxia! Books? No! De Sade! Axel? Axel in leather pants being chained up by my deviant something cousin something removed?

Oh god, gross. Okay, I'm back to what passes for normal if nobody looks too closely.

While I went off trying to reach Slumberland (is Kairi still the princess? Or maybe it's my sanity. Hey, I can pretend to be philosophical!), Larxene got off the bed and is now shimmying her way into a little black dress I didn't know I even owned. She found it in my closet yesterday and called me a filthy slut. Now she's wearing it. I think she knows she basically called herself a slut, so I won't mention it.

It looks better on her than it ever could on me. I think it may be the dress Mom bought me that I never wore on principle. I never wanted to wear anything love 'em and leave 'em Stacie ever had her grubby paws on. Now I see that perhaps it was petty, but at least I didn't throw it out. Larxene looks pretty much fantastic.

Not that she doesn't always.

"Like what you see," she asks slyly, and if I didn't know better I'd think she was hitting on me. But I do know better. She's either baiting me or teasing me – and with Larxene, it's probably the same thing – because, let's be real here. She'd never give me a chance.

I struggle for a moment with words anyway. "You...look nice...much better than...I..."

I distinctly remember something about my intellectual superiority, and people bowing before it.

She looks very pleased with herself, the bitch. It's probably not totally her fault; she's a sex goddess. It probably comes with the package. She probably has straight guys throwing themselves at her feet and straight girls turning gay just for her. (And maybe even gay guys turning straight for her, but it didn't seem to work on Axel..) I want to see her walk down the street in a red dress and laugh at all the Neos who get distracted.

Oh. Naminé has a geek streak. Better not let that get out. Well, it's not as if she's a mind reader. And if she is, then  _stay the hell out of my head._  She's not looking at me anymore, and is now doing something cool with my brush, so I can assume she's not a mind reader. Also it's not possible, and maybe it says something about my sanity that I thought of that argument  _last._

"I really like this brush," she says idly.

"You can have it," I blurt. Oh god. I could've sworn I changed the filter. So why does shit from my subconscious keep making its way out of my mouth? Haha, you're a psycho. I should stop talking to and about myself in second person. It's weird on paper; it's even weirder in my head.

Maybe my therapist has a point, about needing to fix my brain. I mean, I  _have_  been getting a little better, now that Larxene's practically force-feeding me my meds. She found them during a raid on my bathroom and for the last two days, she's been riding me hard. She could probably just mention quietly that she'd like it if I took them, but she gets enjoyment out of forcing people into awkward situations. Goddamn sadist.

No. Ms. Hypothalamic Damage will never get to me. She does not have a point.

"We...should go," I say, just because I can't think of anything else. Not when she looks like that.

"In your pajamas?"

Oh yeah. Well, it's not like I have any pride at all, when it comes to this town. Actually, if I am weird enough, maybe they'll all avoid me. Pull their children to the opposite side of the street when I pass or something. That would be convenient.

"Sure. I do this all the time."

She gives me a weird short laugh. "If I call bullshit, will you still let me wear this dress?"

"You can keep it!" And while you're at it, you can keep me too, you sexy thing. I do believe in miracles. And, what? Why is my brain acting up so much? Maybe because I've overdosed on Larxene. Yeah, that's probably it.

I've never been glad that I wasn't born male, but I am now. I don't want to think about why, so I'll just settle for knowing that it's definitely  _not_  because she's a lesbian sex goddess. It's just a random thought.

"Thanks, I will," she tells me with a weird look on her face. Great, now I've weirded her out. Can I _get_  more awkward? No, I don't want to know. I don't want to find out.

I sorta look away and then do a hoppy thing into my bathroom. I don't want to look at her while I'm brushing my teeth –  _ew –_  but I know she's next to me, because she's doing the same thing and god, I look retarded when I'm brushing my teeth. Or doing pretty much anything. She should just not be around when I'm doing things.

I finish before her, but I keep going anyway because what if two minutes isn't enough? What if she knows something I don't? What if she thinks I'm gross for only brushing for two minutes?

Why am I over thinking this?

I roll my eyes – I hope she didn't see that – and rinse my brush and get out that crappy girly smelling stuff. I don't usually wear it, but if I'm going out in my pajamas...

"That smells terrible," she informs me.

"I know," I reply. To save face, I continue, "I...forgot what...the good one looks like."

It's true, I have another. It's made for men, but hey, there's a reason they wear it. Because it smells good. Also that whole attracting girls thing, but I know for a fact it doesn't work like it does in the commercials because I've never had girls throwing themselves at me. Well, okay, once Fuu did, but that was because I'd just gotten out of the hospital and she'd been worried.

Anyway, I didn't want to wear the good one because I didn't want to look like I'm trying too hard. Now it doesn't seem too logical, and since when did I care what it looks like? We're at my house. Nothing matters. She saw me in a towel last night after my shower and I didn't care. Well, I did, but I know I'm at least not fat so I wasn't really embarrassed or anything except on principle.

Shut up, brain, you're irritating me.

She laughs at me and says, "C'mon, I'm starving." I follow her out because secretly I'd follow her anywhere. There's something wrong with that statement, but I don't know what it is and I don't care to find out. Sora would want to know, but he's...he's not here anymore, and he doesn't  _matter_ anymore.

We're going down the stairs and something's taking place in my head. In a battle between Sora-the-Hero and Larxene-the-Bad-Guy, what would I do? Probably try to step in. I don't really wish him dead or anything and I know she'd probably tear his ass apart. Maybe. I think I'd probably try to stop her, because I'd be more devastated if Sora pushed me aside than if she did.

I think there's also something wrong with that too, but whatever.

I really need to stop thinking. I'm only to the door and there's so much random bullshit going around in my head like circles I don't even know how to organize it all. It's like I have this clarity I've never had before and it's not letting me alone.

I take a deep breath, grab the keys out of the bowl, and shut the door behind me. Larxene didn't even drive over – didn't trust herself behind the wheel, which was probably much smarter than I could ever be – so I'm driving. Not that I really mind, but you'd think she'd want control of the car, like Marluxia.

Whatever.

"Step on it," she says, as soon as we're both in the car. Okay, so the girl likes to eat. I think that's kinda cool. She's so beautiful, and she eats. Most girls...well, most girls I've met, anyway...don't think like that. I mean, Justine is proof, right? And I guess I'm proof too, but I hold myself in a different category. It's not that I don't  _like_  to eat; I just can't. Well, I can, and I do, but I always feel it making me sick.

I follow her instructions. Personally, I'm kinda excited to get there. I know this isn't a date, but I'm pretending it is one because I can. I'm taking her to breakfast. Maybe I'll get to pay for her, too. It would mean I have to order something, but I don't actually have to...

Whoa. Let's not over think here.

I pull into the parking lot and shut off the engine. Is that what it's called? I don't really know what things are called, even if I know how they work. Well, whatever. "Shall we go?"

Oh god.

"...We... _shall,"_  she tells me. Why does she have to make fun of everything I say? Well, I'd make fun of that one too. 'Shall' is a stupid word.

I follow her in. I always feel like a loiterer in these places; it's not like I ever eat here, I just sit here. Isn't that what loitering is? Resting in a non-resting area without a real reason? I should look this up later. Or ask my dad. Attorneys know this stuff, right?

Again. Whatever.

I can dimly hear Larxene ordering something and if I want to take this chance, I have to hurry. As soon as she's done.

Okay.

"And, I'd like...some orange juice and...um, tater tots," I tell the guy behind the counter. He doesn't have a name tag.

:"That will be seven-eighty-six," he tells me, and I whip out my wallet. Funny how I'm afraid of her reaction. Is she upset with me? I can't ask her. Hell, I can't even look at her right now. At least my card wasn't declined; I can't remember the last time I used it. Since I got here, I've been an epic moocher. It's a specialty of mine.

Now I'm standing next to her, leaning against the counter and waiting for our food. I have no idea what she's thinking and it's driving me nuts, but I'm too afraid of her to ask. I just have to sit here uncomfortably, hoping she doesn't hate me completely.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering what you're thinking about. Wait, why do you keep asking me that?" I frown and finally look at her, but I can tell my face is sorta accusing. That's not a good look for me, but I can't change it. "Are you...do you...is that...um, are you quoting Azal?"

True story: Azal's book had a character who asked his girlfriend what she was thinking like every ten pages. It was retarded. Tell you what, I won't read her sequels, or I'll probably claw my eyes out. If Larxene is really quoting Azal...well, it's impossible, because she's too cool.

"God no, don't insult my intelligence," she says. She looks disgusted. I'm perfectly okay with this. "I just want you to talk more. You're so awkward and funny."

...Thanks. You're too kind.

"Uh..."

"Fourteen," says the other guy behind the counter, and I'm so glad for the out. I pick up our tray and try not to act like an imbecile. It's hard, but I think I can manage. Maybe. If I don't open my mouth.

I should probably look somewhere else, too. Her hips are just a little too wiggly to not be ogled and I'd like to think of myself as a gentleman – woman. Gentlewoman. Well, fuck, I'm not really gentle, so it's pointless to entertain the idea anyway.

"Thanks for the  _food,"_  she tells me, sitting down by the window, and I kinda want to kick her. I know she's not actually being serious.

But. "You're welcome." Because what else am I supposed to say?

"So tell me what you're thinking."

I'm not going to get out of this am I?

"I'm...thinking about you," I say. I'm not going to try to lie to her. It wouldn't end well.

"Yeah, okay, great, narrow it down. What  _about_  me?"

I can feel myself giving her a nasty look. I way didn't mean to do that, and I hope she doesn't freak out about it. "Um...you're, not like other people. I have twelve drawings of you and they're all different, but they're all completely  _you._  I've never met someone so ingenuous at one moment and so  _evil_  at the next and still be telling the truth."

Uh. That's not actually what I was thinking at  _all._  I was actually thinking about not saying anything. Dammit, brain, why won't you cooperate? I'm kinda pissed now.

She leans over. "Why do you think I'm being honest at  _any_  point?"

Well, this one is easy. "It's impossible for a person to by lying every second. Sooner or later, even the smallest bit of truth comes out. But since you look the same...that means you're only phony when you mean to be, and everyone can see that. Well, most people can't, because you're...um, intimidating. But if they would just look past that, they'd know. Also, it's very hard to fake sleep-crying, which is what I woke up to the day after you came to my house."

She gives me a look I'd rather not see again in my entire life. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"You asked for an answer, I gave one." How is it that I'm pushing through what may possibly be abject terror? I mean, okay, I'm more terrified of her leaving than of her beating me up, since it might kinda be hot but I'll never say that out loud, but still, why am I pushing her? Goddamn, I'm clearly an imbecile.

"Yeah, it's not really in you to be nice, is it?"

I look down. "Probably not. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." She makes an amused sound. "So I was right. That day, at the library...I was right."

If I remember correctly – and I do, because I haven't bothered to block that particular memory – she's talking about her comment about me being a terrible person. I don't really want to acknowledge that, mostly because I'm embarrassed. It's like...being mean is  _her_  thing. If I take it, then suddenly it's our thing and I'm not sure we're close enough to have an our thing and why am I even thinking about this?

"I think we should get Marluxia a present for tomorrow."

Whoops.  _I_  didn't even see that coming. But now that I think about it, it's a good idea.

"Sure," she replies. That vowel was dragged out just a little too much to be completely acceptable. Well, whatever. "What are we going to get him?"

Hmm...she has a point. "I don't know?"

"Well, you're just full of fun today," she says. Bitch. "So, what, we go to the mall and look for inspiration?"

I don't know if my face looks scared, but that's certainly how I feel right now. "The...mall? Uh...maybe we could..."

Her lips pull up into a little smirky position. "I think it's a wonderful idea."

Goddamn. I have to go to the mall again.

I mean, okay, I know I don't  _have_  to. I have free will. She's not forcing me at knife point – and even if she was, I'd still have a choice. Go, or die. But I'm not actually strong enough to say no when she's looking at me like that, all sexy like that. Looking at her should be a crime; it's so much easier to not do things when people tell me not to do them.

"Okay," I agree. "We'll go to the mall."

If I die, Larxene? I'll come back to haunt you.

"Now, drink your juice, little girl. I'm letting you off the hook this morning, since you've been  _so good-"_  My  _god,_  she's too sexy to exist. "But I haven't forgotten."

Forgotten...what?

Oh. I get it now. She's talking about food. She's basically been force-feeding me these past two days, but she's not this morning. Because apparently, I've been  _so good._  I really, really want to hear her say that in a completely different scenario. Am I totally crazy, or just some kind of perv? Crushes aren't usually sexual, are they? Maybe they are. I usually associate crushes with grade school, and since grade schoolers have, like, no libido, it's sort of...what was I thinking about again? Fuck.

Ah, yes. Fuck. In conjunction with Larxene. Let's not go there.

I want to say thanks or something, but if I do, she'll probably make fun of me or make me eat some of her food. I  _hate_  Burger King. It needs to die. So I just suck on my straw like a good girl and try not to resent her little smile.

I hate watching people eat. It's so gross. Chewing, chewing, swallowing. It's even more gross when you know exactly how it works – the way the food breaks down, the purpose of saliva which is disgusting all on its own...ugh. Kind of like cars; the more you know about them, the less you like them.

I hate watching people eat. So I refuse to look at Larxene, because I'm afraid it would totally make her look gross. Which she isn't.

My juice is orange. My cup, however, won't let me see. The problem is, I also know how straws work, which makes even drinking pretty gross. It's basically just orange-flavored saliva at the bottom. Not going to gag, not going to gag.

Okay.

I hear her move her tray, and when I look up, she stands. Holy shit, she eats fast. I didn't even know that kind of speed was  _possible._  No really.

"C'mon, you can finish that later," she says. She didn't really ask, but then, she probably knows I wouldn't say no to her. Is it totally unhealthy to give someone that kind of power over me? Yeah, I'm sure it is. Bad, Naminé. Bad. And now, I need to just be quiet until I can think of something cool to say.

Well...here we go.

I put the key in the ignition and turn. But god, I'd rather die. Malls are toxic; last time, I like almost passed out or something. But Larxene wants to go to the mall and I'm going to go with her because she's like a drug or something. I  _could_  just not be around her, but I'd be missing her and kinda miserable. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't go...

Nah.

You can basically spit into the Urban Jungle from Burger King, so it's not surprising that we're now here, and even less surprising that I drove without actually realizing I was driving. I hope Larxene didn't say anything or ask any questions, because I was apparently too spacey to pay attention to even myself.

"Hey, perfect parking spot," she calls, and I screech into the spot in the front. Some guy flips me off. I could stand to care a little more, but I don't. Oh, wait.

"I know that guy," I say. "He used to work at Merlin's. I haven't seen him since I was fourteen, but I remember his jaw. And that little spot by his ear; I think it's some kind of burn mark. I never asked him about it."

"You remember...you remember some guy's  _burn mark_  from when you were fourteen? That's like...almost ten years ago."

I take the keys out of the ignition and shrug. "I remember things in vivid detail. It's why I started drawing; I just...remember things."

She gives me a weird totally-not-impressed look. "Is that why all your drawings look so realistic?"

"Sure. R-riku's Mom...said I...have a good eye. Before she disappeared with my aunt and uncle." I look out the window. I don't really like talking about Riku or his mom; they were pretty nice to me, when Riku wasn't busy trying to impress Sora and generally being a semi-loveable asshole. "It's...not that, though...it's like I still see it when I look at blank paper. It's not just with things I see...but...the other senses are a little more obscure, so they're harder to recreate even in your head."

Making a little clicking sound with her tongue, she undoes her seatbelt and says, "So like a photographic memory or something?"

I take off my seatbelt as well. I'd kinda like to just get out of the car and stop talking about me, but if she wants to ask questions...well, I like hearing her voice. Plus, she's leading this little expedition. "I guess...well, it's a little hard to explain?"

"Try me."

I make a sound which was  _not_  a sigh of frustration, thanks. "You could say I remember everything," I tell her carefully. "It's not true; sometimes I need to think for a while, you know, to recall something specific. I just don't really like that. In fact...I sort of...learned very early on that I don't want to remember everything. So, I...guess I designed a system. It's like post-traumatic suppression, only it's conscious. I could remember, if I wanted, but I don't. Ignorance isn't bliss, but sometimes you're better off not seeing certain things."

She laughs a little. "Well, okay, that's actually really weird. Why do that? Lots of people would kill to have what you have."

I shrug. "I'm sure you've figured out that I don't like people much. If I block out their names, and other personal details, I don't have to feel bad about it and I can hate them less. They're just another random face. They're not...it's not personal anymore."

She gives me a dubious look. I don't really blame her. "So you're saying you could probably repeat every conversation we've ever had?"

I shrug. "Maybe, if I wrote them down, or...if I concentrated really hard. I don't want to. Why would I want to? I like not knowing things. I mean...I don't like being...ignorant, but if I block things out, I do it for a reason. Sometimes just because I like feeling...normal, you know? Other times, I just don't really want...um."

Okay, straying into the 'too personal' territory now. There's the kind of personal you share with the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, and then there's the kind of personal you don't tell a soul. This is definitely the second kind of personal. The point of blocking memories isn't just to hide them from everybody else; it's to hide them from myself, too.

"That time you got suckered by your cousin's stepmom's brother," she says. She's not even asking. How the fuck did she know? Did Marluxia tell her? I can't see him breaking my confidence like that...hell, I can't even see Axel breaking my confidence like that. Not that he ever knew anything, but he'd be the more likely candidate.

"What makes you think something like that ever happened?" I hate it when it gets brought up. Because then the block becomes unstable. I know what happened, it's not like I'm afraid of it. But the details make me so fucking angry I'm afraid I'll snap. I know I have fantasies of hurting people, but that's one excuse I'd never want to use. "Go on, tell me."

"No need to get aggressive," she replies. "I went through your scrapbooks – well, what I thought was your scrapbooks. You have a weird way of keeping a journal."

Oh. Shit. Yeah, 'scrapbook' might be an appropriate word, except they're not just pictures. My entire life, up until I was fourteen, is in those books; Kairi thought I should record everything I remembered, so I could write a book about us one day. I abandoned them and started forgetting things after Kairi died. Without her, there was no point in remembering anyway.

I'd really like to be angry at Larxene for going through my files, but she couldn't have known. I told her she could look at my art, mostly to get her off my back while I worked. I'm not sure all the progress I made on my summer commission is really worth this.

"Well, that was a long time ago. You probably got the wrong idea."

"Funny, I didn't know I  _could_  get the wrong idea. Five years old is pretty young for wet dreams, little girl."

"Shut up."

"Whoa." She smiles slyly at me. What, is she really this sick, to push this issue? Or...what is she even doing? "I like this side of you. You should bring her out to play more often."

Play.

Play?

He wanted to play. It was a game to him. Even when I kicked him in the shin, accidentally punched him in the balls, called him a 'big stupid jerk' – what a lame insult, but for a kid, it was huge – he thought it would be...what, fun? I'm bad at analyzing people like that. I'm glad he's dead.

"She doesn't live here anymore," I tell her flatly. "Don't expect her around."

And what the fuck, anyway?

"That's too bad." She pauses, and then looks away. "If you give me a name, I can kill him for you."

I laugh, but it sounds kinda hollow. "He's already dead, but thanks for the offer."

Marluxia offered too. I'm not going to mention that. In a way, she's being super sweet right now, and I don't want to ruin it.

"Yeah, whatever. Look, I saw your last picture in that series-"

I hold up my hand. I want to hit her, but I won't. "Just stop, okay? He lied to me. Said it was...what boy blood looked like. He didn't ruin my life, he didn't make me afraid of men or sex, and he was a pansy premature ejactulator anyway. Please don't make me engage."

She blinks. "Uh...okay. I was just actually going to say that you got it all wrong. Last night I saw a picture of you at that age, in your dad's office. You were much cuter than your drawing."

...Oh. Well. I read into things way too much, but still, I should have...dammit. I really, really can't think about this anymore, because I'm dangerously close to actually personalizing it. Reliving old memories for me is...well, it's harsh, but with the block, it could be completely forgotten, or at least like watching a movie. Somebody else's life. As long as I'm not forced to engage. I don't engage. I _can't_  engage.

I need a change of topic, stat. "What were you doing in my dad's office?"

Is it just me, or does she look as relieved as I should feel? "I was bored. He wasn't home. You were in the shower. I didn't go through any of his case files; it's not like I really want to invade the privacy of people I don't know. What could I possibly gain from that? Also, it's illegal."

Ah, so she's a  _practical_  spy. Good to know. Pfft.

"Well..."

"That reminds me. You told me that story about Sora and Riku..."

I frown. "Yeah, so?"

She takes a deep breath and looks down at her hands. I'm suspicious. Very suspicious. "Was Riku's last name Anderson?"

"Yeah..."

"And Sora had your last name."

"Yes. What are you getting at?"

She looks me straight in the eye and I grip the steering wheel tightly. "Why didn't you know they've been in the Hollow Bastion cemetery for the last eight years?"

Oh. Oh god. What the fuck. What? "What?" What what what

"I saw the clipped obituaries. I was going to ask about them last night, but then you got to work again and talking to you when you're working is like talking to a brick wall, and then I fell asleep and...there was a train accident."

That's not fair. That's really not fair at all. How the fuck am I supposed to react here? I mean, I can feel myself crying and I know I'm slipping through a little hole and my lungs are filling up, but right now even the earth can't access me because there's nothing to access. My brain is totally useless and just sitting there being squeezed through a tube. I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

This isn't fair.

Because really, I'm just an angry little girl who's scared of the world. I'm sick of looking like this successful, responsible woman, when really the only difference between me and Kairi is that she's six feet under. I died when she did, but I'm still breathing. I'm  _always_  breathing, even when I can't.

I hate it. I can't be healthy. And that overdose? I like to pretend it was an accident, because I can't handle being that fucked up. Just like I can't handle being the only goddamn kid still breathing poison air.

I wish...god, I wish it had been me instead of Kairi. But then that's so selfish, because then Kairi would be here, and she wouldn't have Larxene because she's not that kind of person. She would be visiting graves and crying over blood. Living for the dead and dying for life, alone. And in a choice between me and Kairi, if one of us had to die...

She was the best of us. Our princess. Some of us are supposed to outlive our best friends and suffer for mistakes and failures. I'm part of that 'us' and maybe I deserve to suffer – but she didn't. I would never want her to be kneeling in a graveyard, wearing a black dress, clutching at memories and grass. Princesses don't get grass stains and their heroes don't abandon them. Would her dad have told her Sora died?

"Breathe, Naminé," I hear. But I'm too far away to answer.

I can feel something close to me, and I know it's her, but I don't really know what else. "Dammit, we're not doing this again."

And now I feel...that hurt. I can't breathe, but I can feel, and that  _hurt._  What did she do? I have to open my eyes to see. I have to. I have to make sure she's not hurting me. This body can't get hurt, because then it will be ruined.

Her hand is next to my face. She must have smacked me again. But now she's rubbing the place that stings. Her eyes are big. Her eyes are big and wide. Her eyes are big and wide and vivid. Her eyes are big and wide and vivid and watery.

"Don't do this," she tells me. "You can't leave me here."

I don't really understand. It's hard to process words. But something in me doesn't like what she's saying. Calling for more understanding. I don't want to understand but that something wants me to understand and I can feel my arms moving. They're going around me. No, around her.

I can't breathe, but I can hear myself say, "I'm sorry."

I can't breathe, but I'm not dying.

I can breathe, I just feel like I can't.

I'm not panicking. I'm just having emotions. I always forget what it feels like to be truly sad. I always forget because I don't engage. I'm just crying. I'm just feeling. I'm not panicking. The earth is not breathing. I'm not dying. I'm just feeling.

And she's here too.

"Marluxia-"

"No, I'm Larxene," she says. I don't know what that tone is.

"He needs...we need his...that thing."

I'm not coherent, apparently. I know what I'm trying to say, but I can't get my mouth to work. It feels tingly and my hands are stuck in a V shape, like a lobster or something. They're tingling too. We need to get him his present.

I have to focus on that. Marluxia. Present. Marluxia. Present. Focus, focus. If I can put myself in Memory Mode, I can maybe stop feeling. Then I could breathe and see and not be completely stupid.

"He needs a present."

She laughs kinda weirdly. "You're thinking about that now? Fine. Fine, whatever."

She gets out of the car. Through the windshield I can see her walking around and when she opens the door she helps me out – yanks me, really, and that hurt my arm, but the pain helps me focus too. I don't want to let go of her hand, and she's not making me. It's good. It feels good. I focus on our hands. Hers is bigger than mine, but not by much. She has small hands, or I have huge ones. I don't really like hands; they're kind of ugly. But I like hers. I like everything about her, from the way her lips move to the way she smacks me when I'm out of touch. And I don't just let anybody do that to me.

In fact, I don't let anybody do that to me. Larxene's different. That's something I can work with. Something I can concentrate on. Larxene, Larxene, Larxene. She's different. She is different.

She's...huh. She's Larxene. And you know what? It's too early to say that I'm in love with her, but I think that's where this is going.

Oh, fantastic. I'm so fucked.


	25. We've Got Your Disease

 

I'm going crazy, I swear.

Larxene left today, to pick up Marluxia. I was going to come, but then my dad had me stay back because he wants some 'family time.' I'll give him family time, but I don't plan on having any fun. I hope he doesn't have fun either. I have  _serious_  beef with him, and I'm not going to hold it in anymore.

…Maybe Larxene's been good for me. I hope so. I hope this isn't a huge mistake.

I'm almost finished with my commission, which is why he isn't questioning the sketchpad in my lap, but I can't really focus on it. I keep drawing people. Sora, Riku. Kairi. Kairi and Larxene leaning on each other. And there's me, Larxene and Marluxia on each side; Kairi, Sora, and Riku. Three and three. I keep drawing this over and over and over.

"I was thinking. We should go out tonight. We haven't been to Tiana's Palace since you got here."

I shrug and keep my eyes on my drawing. I'm lining Larxene's eyes again, but I just don't want to look at him. "I went there with Roxas on the day he left. Sorry."

"Oh…well, we could always go again."

I'm kind of annoyed. Okay, sure, he's an attorney with his own practice in a small town full of discontent and secrets and therefore he's busy. But he just  _now_  decides he wants to make time with me, when he could have taken a day off after finishing a case? Besides, we only went out to Tiana's Palace when he wanted to talk to me and knew I couldn't run out if we were in a public place. This isn't shaping up to be the greatest night of my life.

I want to go see Marluxia. But I have a family thing. Sometimes I hate having family. Sometimes I think they're not worth it.

"I suppose. But…" I look up at him finally. He's tapping his fingers on the side of his big chair, like he always used to do when Mom was around. Like he's bored or something, but not just in general. Like he's bored with  _me._  "I think we should talk first."

He shrugs. I look at my pad again. "We can talk. What's on your mind?"

This spare office chair is extremely uncomfortable. I'd like to be in my special couch chair, or even in the library, but I have to sit here because of familial bonding bullshit. It's not helping my mood, and it's definitely not helping me see him in a better light. Without looking at him, I say, "Sora and Riku are dead."

"Yes," he says slowly. I chance a glance and I'm surprised to see him looking confused. "You went to the funeral. It seemed as if you weren't coming back."

Okay, I know I can block out memories pretty much at will, but that's one memory I'd never choose to block. Call me crazy, but that's one thing I'd rather suffer through than just  _not know._  "No, I didn't even know they were dead. Larxene had to tell me she saw their obituaries."

My voice is not freaking out. Maybe Larxene's confidence rubbed off on me – or maybe I'm just too mad to go back to old habits.

"You disappeared at that time with your friend, what's his name…M something. Mark? No, it was more feminine…"

"Marluxia," I say flatly. "He was my best friend for three years, and we left because his parents were fighting and neither of us wanted to be in this town anymore. We only came back because he needed emergency medical care."

"Oh." Does he have to sound so disinterested? This is  _eight years of baggage_  and he's just writing it off. I know I'm not the greatest person, and lots of times I lack empathy, but even I wouldn't be this cold. "I apologize. I thought your mother had told you."

How random is that. I know there are lots of more pressing matters, but I'm still amazed at the timing. I just  _happened_  to leave town at the same time, and I just  _happened_  to be in the same city as the funeral, but I didn't even know it was happening. It's like everything else; life tormenting people. The big shithole that is the world getting revenge on the people who use hairspray or drive cars or whatthefuckever.

"You thought Mom would actually stop thinking about herself long enough to call me and tell me about two kids she didn't even know? That wasn't the most brilliant idea, Dad."

He sighs. When I look at him, he has his hand to his forehead, like I'm giving him a headache. "Naminé, that was a very hectic time for everyone. I was still in defense, you were in school, and Roxas was in trouble again. I asked your mother to speak with you because I didn't think I had the skills to talk to a little girl about something as big as death. She promised, and I didn't think any more about it."

If he expects me to accept that excuse, he's fucking stupid. "I spent  _eight years_  thinking my friends just abandoned me. I thought they didn't care…it…I spent eight years thinking  _I wasn't good enough._  You never needed me; they were the only ones who actually showed any kind of care for me, and when they left and didn't come back…god, how could you…didn't you even think to check and see if your  _daughter_  was  _coping?"_

He gives me a weird stern look I absolutely despise. I don't know why, though; it just gets me. Wait, I do know why. That's the same look he used to give to my mother. "I assumed you were mature enough to come to me with any problems you might have."

I…don't even…I think I should be disgusted or something. Isn't that how most people would react? Zexion would be so pissed. My dad's really lucky Zexion's not actually  _here_  right now. Marluxia might deck him, but Zexion…

Yeah. Good thing he's not here.

I'm here. And in a way, that's worse. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Dad. I was a kid. I was a teenager who'd just lost her best friend since kindergarten and her other best friends all at once-"

"You seemed to move on quickly," he interjects. "With your other friend. Marla."

"It's  _Marluxia,"_  I say, and I'm not proud of the venom in my voice. I don't want to be mad at my dad. It's been him and me against the world for a long time, and I owe him a lot. He didn't have to take care of me, but he did. I'm just…sometimes, I'm scared of my own feelings. Anger is so poisonous. I feel reckless and self-assured and those should never be mixed in my case. "And I didn't move on, I latched onto the only person who didn't think I was a freak. He protected me from myself, and yeah, he became my best friend, but I didn't  _move on!_  I was…I wanted to die, back then, and he made sure I had a reason to live."

"Well, how could I have known that? You never talked about your life. I'd ask you about your day and you'd only talk about Marla – sorry,  _Marluxia._  If you hadn't kept your grades up, I would have thought he was the only thing in your life at all."

I stand up. I know it's bad to be this restless, but  _seriously,_  I just kinda want to hit something. Him. I want to hit  _him._  Only I'm an adult now, and I'm sure that could count as domestic violence or something. I'm not going to risk it. I feel all this energy in my legs, so I pace a little because pacing is better than punching the stupid framed picture of fruit behind me. "It's obvious now that you weren't ever actually in my life," I tell him.

"I was – I wanted to be-"

"Not enough to actually ask questions. Not enough to pay for my books. Not enough to keep me from looking like a freak, bringing my own lunch to school and wearing old clothes that barely fit because I had no money to go  _shopping._  You were totally absent! And you…you kept Sora from me. You kept  _closure_  from me. You relied on Mom, the most  _unreliable woman on the planet,_  to tell me something so important. Explain to me how that makes you interested in my life. Please, I'd love to hear the answer."

Now his one eyebrow is raised. I  _hate_  it when he does this. It makes me feel like a complete moron, which is…exactly the reason he does it. I've seen it in action. I used to  _laugh_  over it. Goddamn, has it always been this bad?

I'm even angrier now. I should keep my calm, but I can't even stop the words from coming now. "I didn't even know you were getting married. I had to find out from  _Justine,_  who made a deal with me – we wouldn't talk to each other – and I'm almost glad she talked to me, because otherwise I wouldn't have known! I would have gone back to Twilight Town and missed your wedding. Come on, tell me I'm wrong."

"I'm sure Lisa would have sent you an invitation," he tells me patiently. Fuck him. Fuck him, and his little eyebrow, too. How could I have ever thought he was…

I recognize this little game. He used to be this way with Mom, too. I thought he was just keeping his cool, staying calm while she ranted. I thought it was all her fault, because it totally seemed that way. She seemed so irrational, pointing fingers and telling him to stop being such a condescending asshole. Even when I was locked in my room crying over my sketches, I could hear her shrieking. Is that what I sound like? Do I even  _care?_

No, maybe I don't. I don't want to be like her, but I think I can sympathize with her now.

"You condescending  _asshole,"_  I say, and I'm not proud of the delight I get from seeing his face. He looks surprised and almost a little hurt, like he knows why I'm saying this. Like he sees that I'm embracing the bitch in me that I got from his ex wife. Fuck him. Fuck this.

"I don't know where this is coming from." He really looks like he's telling the truth. If he is, that means he's so far removed from my life that maybe this is pointless. I have to know. I have to see if he really does dislike me, or if he's just too uninvolved to care.

"This is coming from the facts presented to me. I cut Mrs. Angler's grass and read to her all summer so I could buy school supplies, even though that meant walking three miles every day. Where were you then? I  _ran away_  for almost a month. Where were you then? I lost my virginity to my best friend and I cried about it for a week.  _Where were you then?_  Wait, don't tell me. You were working a case."

"I'm sure I was." He gives me a suspicious look. "You had sex when you were a teenager?"

"I  _knew_  you'd respond to that," I tell him. I don't know why I feel satisfied; it's not like I said it to purposely scare him or anything. "That's not important. I didn't get pregnant, I didn't get an STD, and he's still my – a very good friend. What's important is that you didn't even know because…what, did you just not care?"

"I cared. I still care. But you have to understand, I didn't have time-"

I can't do this anymore. I just  _can't._  I grab my sketchbook and look at his face – and force myself to look straight into his eyes. "You know what? I'm done. I can't do this. I'm sick of having no family."

He looks startled. What, he wasn't expecting this? He didn't think I'd up and leave when I found out that I didn't even matter to him? "What?"

"I said I'm  _done._  I know I'm not the greatest person, and maybe I could have talked more, but I had no idea what to tell you, because you didn't ask. I didn't know how to talk to you, and you were the adult.  _You_  were supposed to take initiative. Isn't that your job as a father? How was I supposed to know?" I close my eyes and take a breath. This will be hard, but probably…maybe it will be worth it. "I'm leaving, Dad."

"Why?"

I turn around, so my back's to him. "If you really  _want_  me in your life, you'll tell me to stop walking."

I don't hear a sound when I leave his study. I'm not surprised – I mean, I guess I knew deep down. Even before it occurred to me consciously. I guess that's why I got so mad at Zexion for bringing it up; I didn't want it to be true. Nobody ever wants that kind of thing to be true.

I get to my room and I dial Larxene. I kinda stole her number from her phone while she was in the shower, but…well, it was probably a good thing. I don't know if I would be able to talk to Marluxia right now.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Naminé."

Holy  _shit,_  I'm crying. How did I not even notice?

"Oh!" She sounds inordinately delighted to hear from me. In the background, I hear Marluxia asking who's on the phone and she says my name. "What's up?"

"I…um, I'm probably going to leave Traverse Town…but, if…can I stay with you tonight?"

There's a small pause and then she talks again. "What's going on?"

I can hear wariness in her voice. At least, I think it's wariness. I take a breath – which is shaky – and reply, "I fought with my dad. I need to…not be here anymore."

"Okay. I'll come get you."

Whoa. No hesitation at all. God, I didn't even expect her to say yes. I realize I still need to respond. "Thank you."

"Yeah, see you in a few. Be ready to go."

There's a click and I don't know why, but I feel so goddamn relieved right now. I throw my phone on the bed and rip my clothes off the hangers in the closet; I know I won't be able to take my big bag, but as long as I have my little bag and my art pack, nothing else matters. I don't bother to fold them. I just stuff them in my little suitcase and take it into the bathroom, where I grab my stuff from the counter and the medicine cabinet.

Mindless tasks usually help me calm down, but for some reason I'm having a really hard time. I don't actually know how long I've been standing here in front of the mirror, but…I look so awful. My eyes are puffy and my collarbones are like…grotesque. My white tank top totally washes me out. My jeans are slipping off my hips because my belt isn't small enough and my cheeks are completely sunken. Hunching over like this, I look…like a worm, or something. How the  _fuck_  did I not notice this?

I still feel like a big lump of nothing. But I'm not. I'm just a small lump of nothing. Or maybe I'm just nothing at all.

Whatever. Whatthefuckever.

I dump my suitcase by my door and huddle on my bed, with my arms wrapped around my shins. Now that I'm not in my dad's vicinity, I feel…cold. I'm still angry, but it's like it refuses to keep me warm. Was I too harsh? I don't think I was, but then, I do kinda feel like I was. Maybe I should go in and apologize.

No. No way. I have to stick to my guns on  _something._

I see Marluxia's tiny car pull up and I grab both my bags. I'll come back for my big suitcase before I leave town; I just want to get out of here before I do something stupid, like beg for forgiveness.

When I pass his office, he's hunched in his big chair, looking kinda dejected. He looks up and I turn my head so he can't even see my nose. I'm not going to say goodbye. If I do, I'll probably lose my nerve.

I don't bother to take a key. There are several ways to get into the house, even if he locks me out. But I don't think he will. He'll probably expect me to change my mind, because that's what I always do. Just to make things easier on all parties, at least on the outside.

I'm a goddamn  _weakling._

I climb into the backseat and settle on the middle seat. Nobody even speaks. I don't want to explain until I absolutely have to.

"What happened, Naminé?"

Okay, I guess now's the time I have to explain. I'm glad it was Marluxia who asked and not Larxene; now that I'm near him, like in person, I think he'll be easier to talk to.

"I just…confronted my dad about…a few things. It didn't end well. I…told him I'm…well, leaving. I was pretty cold."

He makes a snorting noise. It's annoying, but such a welcome relief. This is Marluxia. I can always count on him to tell me I'm being stupid and tell me what to do. "It's about time. I was eager to see you put your powers to good use."

My…powers?

"The dork means your ability to make people think and feel things," Larxene says, like she's reading my mind or something.

"It's just a little psychology. Anyone can do it if they pay attention," I say sorta lamely, leaning forward so my head is between the seats. It's true, but why do I have to sound like a total idiot while saying that? Jesus Christ on a stick.

…That sounds like a terrible dessert. Maybe they serve it at church functions. And I should stop thinking now because, ew.

"Most people  _don't."_  His tone sounds final and if I'm honest with myself, I don't really want to talk about this anymore. Praise, even convoluted like this, always makes me uncomfortable. And annoyed. Can't forget annoyed.

"Anyway, we're going out to celebrate Marluxia's homecoming," Larxene says. "We were going to come kidnap you anyway, but now that you're here of your own free will, it will be more fun."

I latch onto the topic with embarrassing desperation. I don't want to think about that fight anymore. "Where are we going?"

"I was thinking Hollow Bastion," she replies. "I grew up there, so I know my way around the night life, and it's only an hour and a half away. That gives us plenty of time to get back before tomorrow morning…or, we could rent a hotel room. My latest shoot was for this stupid lacy lingerie – I brought some home for you, by the way – and I made bank."

Okay, back up there. Past the part where she got some lingerie for me, because  _ew,_  but to the part where she had pictures taken while wearing said lingerie. I wonder what color it was. I bet she looked fantastic. Like totally edible.

God, it feels good to be with people who make me feel uncomfortable. It's even more comfortable than being alone, which is weird and possibly a total juxtaposition, but whatever. I'm notoriously backward anyway. I know this because Zexion told me, and he's my best friend so I believe him.

"I don't care either way," I tell her honestly. Well, sort of honestly. I'd like to rent a hotel room. It would just be us, Naminé and Marluxia and Larxene, and unless we randomly ran into someone Larxene used to know, we wouldn't know anyone. It would be a welcome break from the monotony and uncomfortable closeness of our little shithole town.

But I don't really care if we don't. As long as I get to be with them, I don't care where we go.

"Eh, we'll figure it out," she says carelessly.

There's quiet now and I'm really…excited. I know I look like crap, and I'm not dressed for a night out, but who even cares? If I don't look appropriate, Larxene will tell me. I have a feeling she'd rather humiliate me in private than be humiliated by me in public, which is what would happen if I was dressed inappropriately.

Still, I can't stop myself from running my fingers through my hair a few times. We're not even close to Hollow Bastion, but…well. Yeah.

"Hey Marluxia. Tag," Larxene says suddenly.

He sighs. "Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut. Tag."

"Damn," she says. "I was going to pick him. Looks like I'll have to fall back on old faithful. All universal moral principles are idle fancies. Tag, Marluxia."

"Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another. Tag, Naminé."

I think I get this game…well, maybe. If I'm wrong, I'll look like an idiot. I look like an idiot most of the time, so…yeah. Time to break out my secret favorite author. "A work of art has no importance whatever to society. It is only important to the individual. Tag, Larxene."

She turns her head. Marluxia mutters, "Keep your eyes on the  _road."_

Looking back at the road – and also looking quite irritated – she says, "Destruction, hence, like creation, is one of Nature's mandates. Tag, Naminé."

I can't help but smile. It feels good not to force it. "My loathings are simple: stupidity, crime, cruelty, soft music. Tag, Marluxia."

"Fear of death increases in exact proportion to increase in wealth. Tag, Larxene."

"It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure. Tag, Naminé."

Oh god. My brain is a little fuzzy, because…hearing her say that seems so natural and really sexy and  _yeah, Naminé, it's your turn._  "Nothing is more exhilarating than philistine vulgarity. Tag, Larxene."

"Truth titillates the imagination far less than fiction. Tag, Marluxia."

"Watch the road!" She snickers and he takes a deep, steadying breath. That's kind of cute – not that I'll ever mention that to him. "What is moral is what you feel good after, and what is immoral is what you feel bad after. Tag, Naminé."

"I think it is all a matter of love; the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is. Tag, Marluxia."

Funny – that's one of my favorite quotes, but I can't really agree with it. I remember things evenly, regardless of how I feel about them. The only hangup is perception – but that's to be expected. Nobody's actually completely objective, even removed scientists and sociopaths.

"Um…I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and make plans."

Larxene bursts out laughing, and says, "Bullshit!"

He points at her. "You lose, Larxene."

She shrugs. "You could have picked something a little less…out of character."

Wait, what?

"I ran out of good ones. I only picked him so you wouldn't," he replies neutrally. God, I love that guy. In a very platonic, what the hell are you thinking kind of way.

"Could someone…explain that game," I ask. "What…do you mean, out of character?"

Larxene does that snicker thing I secretly adore. "I'm surprised you picked up on it. Actually, I'm not, but I didn't really expect you to. Usually we pick the ones that…more or less fit our circumstances or states of mind. Lea and I used to play it all the time, and I force Marluxia to play it now that she's out being sexually deviant without me."

I feel oddly grossed out. Oh wait, never mind, it's not odd. Axel shouldn't be thought of in a sexual way. Ever.

"That makes sense," I reply. "Why did Marluxia say you…um…lost?" Yes, I'm hesitant to bring it up. Larxene seems like someone who doesn't like losing. Plus, I'm reluctant to admit that she actually  _can_  lose at anything, because she's totally fantastic.

"One of the rules is that you can't make fun of someone else's quote. You lose if you do, or if you can't come up with one. You would have won anyway," she tells me. "You have that cool memory thing."

"But…it all depends on…how well-read you are…doesn't it," I question. I feel kind of brave tonight. Maybe because I have an odd amount of self-confidence left over from that fight, which I  _won't_ think about, thanks.

"I guess that's true." She turns to Marluxia. "Naminé was a little bookworm, wasn't she?"

"Once again, your assumption is correct. I don't know how you do it," he says dryly. "Oh, wait, I told you that. Also, stop looking away from the road. We're almost out of Spaghetti Highway."

"Shut up, I wanted to make sure I hadn't imagined that conversation." She shrugs and adds, "How many times do you read a book, Naminé?"

I'm kind of embarrassed by this question, but I answer honestly. "Normally, only once, but…sometimes I reread things I…particularly liked. I like the feel of pages in my hands…it sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"Non, ma petite chérie," she replies. "C'est magnifique."

Okay. I have…no idea what she just said. I wish she'd stop doing that thing where she speaks French. How am I supposed to respond when I don't even understand what she's talking about? I feel like I'm at an astrophysics lecture and I've been asked to explain the interstellar medium. Which I know nothing about, other than that it exists. I think.

"She's embarrassed to say that directly to you," Marluxia says. Is it just me, or does he sound smug? "That would mean admitting she knows how to be nice."

So it was something nice. That's good to know…kind of. I'd rather she be mean all the time, but maybe I wouldn't. Maybe it's just weird to think of her  _being_  nice. I mean, what's in it for her? She seems too opportunistic and bitchy to compliment someone without ulterior motives.

But maybe I'm just being unfair.

"You're an asshole, Marluxia," she says.

"The biggest," he agrees. That's usually what he does when he thinks he has a point – or he just has one. By agreeing with her, he's taking away her poison. It's a good tactic, unless you're on the receiving end, at which point it's just annoying and not endearing.

"Anyway," she says. In the lowering sunlight hitting the rear-view mirror, I can see her roll her eyes. "That's the game for you. Pretty simple."

I will have to make Zexion play that with me when I get back to Twilight Town. He's much more widely read than I am, and will make a great opponent. Or something.

I guess there's not much to be said now, because we're all quiet. It's not a bad quiet. There's something contemporary playing softly on the radio and the hum of the engine is sort of nice, if not a little unsettling. I don't think cars this old are supposed to still be functioning, but I can't actually see Marluxia owning any other type of vehicle.

I have this vague feeling that I'm going to die. The bottom is going to fall off and I'm going to be run over by the car I'm currently riding in. I should probably put on my seatbelt.

Whatever.

Wait.

"Why are you driving, Larxene?"

She does that laugh again. "Marly got dosed before he left the hospital. He can't drive until about ten tonight."

Ah, okay, that makes more sense. "I see."

"I can drive just fine," he says.

"I can't ride in a car driven by someone in a drug-induced stupor," she counters. Hey, I think that's why Marluxia has seemed kind of mellow. His medication never makes him loopy, but sometimes in higher doses it makes him…pleasant.

I think Larxene just loves taking control from people whenever possible, and she respects Marluxia too much to just steal it randomly. But that's supposed to be a secret.

I don't know why I'm so comfortable with their silences. I usually feel so awkward, unless it's Zexion – I prefer to listen to people talk, even if I can't say anything. I'm always eavesdropping, even when I don't mean to, and when I draw things it's like watching a movie or making a picture book. But with them, it's natural. Almost like it's my place to be silent, even though that really makes no sense because I know they actually enjoy my company, no matter what it might look like on the outside.

What  _does_  it look like? When this whole thing first started, I know I looked reluctant. Like scared. I don't think it's like that anymore. Maybe because I'm not the person I used to be, Marluxia's not the person he used to be, and Larxene makes it…perfect.

The sun is getting low. It won't set for another two hours, but it's approaching my favorite time. I love sunsets – and not just because Kairi and I watched them together. They remind me of popsicle sticks and honeysuckle. And more than that,  _familiarity._  The days before Mom left and I learned that childhood is the only time you get to be an idealist and not be disappointed.

Larxene is a demon in the driver's seat. I know Hollow Bastion is an hour and a half away, but at the rate we're going, we'll be there in forty minutes. I sort of hope she slows down. Maybe I should put on a seatbelt –

"I'm thinking we should hit up the Crimson Jazz tonight, if it's still open. I had a lot of fun there, before I moved to the World that Never Was."

I didn't inherit my dad's superb hearing. This means I shouldn't put on my seatbelt, because then I won't be able to participate in their conversations. And, maybe I won't  _participate;_  maybe they don't even want me; but at least I want to listen intently, and all that.

"Don't call it that," Marluxia says.

At the same time, I say, "Why did you move there anyway?"

I can see her eyes roll in the mirror again. "I'll call it whatever I want to call it," she replies. "And I moved there because I heard Lea went there. It was…I needed out of Hollow Bastion and I figured the atmosphere in a small town would be better."

I try to keep my voice neutral when I ask, "Is it?"

I've never really lived in a big city. Twilight Town is only a little bigger than Traverse Town, but they couldn't be more different; where Traverse Town is nosy, Twilight Town is quiet. Where Traverse Town is devoid of fun, Twilight Town has a lot of great things to do. But maybe it's just that I didn't grow up there; I don't have to deal with people knowing all the details of my life.

"Not really. It's exactly the same, but more…concentrated."

Yeah. I can imagine that. It's too bad, though; I always thought moving to a big city would be more…fun, and character-building or some shit.

"Why did you need to get out of Hollow Bastion?"

As soon as I see her face in the mirror, I know I've taken a wrong step. "Shut up, little girl," she says darkly.

"I'm…sorry," I tell her quietly. Goddamn. One word from her. and my entire mood and sense of self-worth changes. The power she has over me…I kind of want to get away. It's frightening. In the last while, I've forgotten why I don't believe in love, but now I remember. I can't fall in love with her, because love makes everything…wrong. It can't exist, and the charade never ends well.

I'm still attracted to her, though. Which isn't good. I lean back against the seat and pull my seatbelt over my lap. There's no use being unsafe if I don't have a reason to.

"You were kind of mean," Marluxia tells her, and now I  _know_  he's dosed.

"I can be a bitch to whoever I want, if they're being nosy."

I feel like rolling my eyes, but I won't.

My sketchbook feels good on my lap – like a security blanket, almost – so I'm not surprised that something seems to lift a little when I take it out of my bag. I don't know what I'm going to draw yet, but drawing will be better than thinking about all this. I don't want to concentrate on how much I don't want to like her.

I know I should be working on my project, but the car is too bumpy. I'm also not in the right state of mind. When you're drawing someone you don't know and you're thinking about the girl you're most certainly  _not_  falling in love with…well, there's some overlap that shouldn't be there.

Speedy Gonzales – I mean, Larxene – hits a bump and my pencil jerks across the page. Damn. Well, I can work with it; I'll make it my starting point. Sometimes the best things come from accidents or mistakes, and there's a parallel with real life there that I most certainly am  _not_  going to consider.

My drawings always used to look like scribbles. Crayon art and inexperience. I never even thought about doing it professionally until I started hanging out with Marluxia, because I really sucked. But he saw something in it, something he called 'false emotion,' and I ran with it because I wanted to desperately to impress him. To not be alone anymore. It seems funny to me that I actually have a real passion for it now, and people say I'm a great artist. I can 'draw anything.' Or anyone. And…

I'm drawing Riku.

I don't know why. It's not like Riku and I were ever close; he was Kairi's friend, and Sora's friend, and he hung out with me because they did. He was usually nice to me, and he punched Charlie in the face when he called me a bitch in seventh grade, but we never spent time alone and to be perfectly honest, what I miss most about him is everything we didn't have. Opportunities. That's what I miss most about him.

Kairi said once that we'd end up together. That she and Sora would get married, and then Riku would propose to me; I'd say no because I hated the idea of marriage, but we'd still live together, and we'd have a cat because neither of us would want children. It seemed so ideal, and I laughed and agreed, but I knew it would never happen. I only had eyes for her.

Objectively, he's okay looking, but I never found him attractive – this is the problem with drawing people you know. I can remember and recreate his face in perfect detail, but the picture looks more enticing than he ever was in person. It's something tangible, and his memory is just that – a memory.

The paper is too shadowy to see now. I don't know how long I've been drawing, but it must be about an hour, because the sun is too low to be of any use in this car. Larxene has slowed down considerably, which is both nice and irritating. Nice because now I'm not so fearful for my life; irritating because now I have to spend longer in this car.

Wait. We're actually in a populated area. Apparently, she didn't slow down that much after all.

I put my sketchpad in my bag again and Marluxia says, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Before I can stop myself, I say, "Did I stop breathing?"

He just laughs at me. Well, it's not like I expected anything else. Marluxia's…kind of too cool for that. I chance a look at the rear-view mirror; I can't really see Larxene's reflection well, but from what I can see, she doesn't look upset anymore. I'm glad about that, I guess.

"You know very well how you get when you're working," she says primly. I have no idea how she does that. Her voice is just so…

I'm not thinking about this.

"Yes. Sorry," I say, before I can think it through. I hate it when that happens.

"Bullshit," she retorts quickly, and since she's right, I figure I shouldn't try to defend myself. Fortunately, I don't have to sit through the awkward not-apology embarrassment time because she adds, "Right there. Crimson Jazz. Tonight's going to be fucking sweet."

I don't know why, but something's lifting right now. Something in my stomach is just…I don't know. Lighter. I don't really know how to dance, and I'm not pretty so I won't score – not that I'd want to – and I'm not getting drunk in front of Larxene, but I can tell something important is going to happen, and I'm excited to meet it head on.

Or, you know, I'm crazy. Either way, it's a good feeling I way didn't expect.

The parking lot is…incredibly shady, especially in this dwindling light, but that's okay. I'm with Marluxia, who probably wouldn't  _really_  use me as a human shield, and Larxene, who wouldn't let anything happen to me because she's the only one who's allowed to torment me. I know that even on my own, I'd probably be all right; I just hear all these horror stories about big cities and how little girls like me get mugged or raped in dark places. It's probably just hype.

And even if it wasn't, I have sharp teeth and good eyes and why am I even thinking about this? It's neither here nor there. Also I have to get out of the car if I don't want to be taken for a crazy person. Crazy is bad for my public image, or whatever.

Swear to god, I'm so retarded.

I can see this excitement on Larxene's face. It's totally infectious, which is bizarre and I have to attribute it to hanging out with her so much. I mean, the excited face also doubles as a pure evil face. If I didn't know her, I'd probably be scared or something. Maybe. I don't know, because I do know her and the most dangerous times are when she looks sweet.

"Come on," she says impatiently, grabbing my arm and yanking me out of the car. Well then. I guess I'm going in without my phone, without grooming, and without –

"I need my wallet," I tell her.

"Or you could just hurry. We were planning on kidnapping you anyway, which may or may not have involved chloroform…so I stole your wallet this morning. I have it in my bag."

It's kind of bad that I can totally see that scenario happening, and I'm not mad about it. It's worse that if it was someone else who needed kidnapping, I'd probably help out. I have been corrupted. I…am  _not_  a good girl.

Eh, whatever.

Larxene's practically pulling my arm out of its socket – she's fun like that – but I can't care. It's so weird, that I'm going into an uncomfortable situation with people I should probably hate or at least avoid and I'm looking  _forward_  to it. Oh man, if Zexion were here…

But he's not. I am. I steal my wallet from her bag and I feel inordinately pleased with myself.

The guy at the front door – he's too lanky to be called a bouncer, and I think all he does is stamp hands anyway – looks at me like I'm some kind of loser. I don't know if it's because I look like a ragamuffin on crack or because I look really young, but I don't care. Larxene flashes him her ID and I follow suit; he doesn't look convinced, but I couldn't care less. Unlike last time, I'm actually old enough to go into a club, get good and stoned off something I can't remember, and…

But that won't happen this time. I'm going to offer to be our designated driver.

Larxene grabs Marluxia's arm and drags us both over to the little wet bar in the back. There are moving bodies  _everywhere;_  in this light it looks like a zombie movie. It's kind of funny to think that just a little while ago I was sort of a zombie myself. Maybe I still am. And I'd still like to check and see if Justine has a brain, but I know enough to know that I'd never want to eat it. Yugh.

I slip my wallet into my cargo pocket and zip it before buttoning it; nobody's going to get their hands on my personal effects, if I can help it. I'm probably being paranoid, but again, whatever. Also, if I have to hunch over to get my wallet out again, I'll be less likely to actually drink anything.

"What are you drinking?" It's like she reads my mind or something. But I already ruled out that possibility when she didn't actually hear me tell her to get out of my head.

"Nothing. I'm the designated driver."

"Wrong," she says. "Marly here can't drink tonight, so  _he's_  driving."

I blink. "But I thought this was to celebrate his health? Shouldn't he get to…"

"I am not letting  _anyone_  else drive my car tonight," he says firmly, and yeah, I'm not going to object to that.

"So, what are you drinking," she asks again.

This…is where I lie my ass off. I don't feel like explaining, and I'm not sure she'd even accept my explanation anyway. "Vodka, straight up."


	26. But Now I'm Only Falling Apart

 

It's something I'll never admit, but I like being held. Some people say dancing is a sport, but I disagree; sports are never this comfortable, this safe. I can't remember a time when I felt like this. Not even before Kairi died.

Marluxia is behind me and I'm leaning into him, but Larxene's in front of me and she's leaning on me. It's comfortable like this. I'm safe here between two of the least safe people in my life – maybe it's just the crazy talking, but I'd rather be around them than around, say, Roxas. In a way, they rescue me from myself. I might be terrified or embarrassed half the time, but with them, I am  _never_ alone. They want me. In some weird way, they  _need_  me, and I know that.

Larxene's mostly leaning on me because she can't stand up by herself, and I'm mostly leaning on Marluxia because I'm a weakling. But it's too great to really think about the reasons very hard.

"We should go," he tells me, leaning down to whisper into my hair. It's weirdly intimate.

"Probably," I tell him. "I'm sure they're going to close soon."

My voice hasn't acted up all night. I've been dancing with both of them and in a crowd and my voice still hasn't acted up. It's nothing short of a miracle, for real.

Part of me doesn't want to leave. There's something magic here and I know once we leave it will end. Thing about magic is, it's not real. It exists in a single moment and then disappears. Like twilight. False magic makes me think about Olivia and Cesario and how reality always seems like a consolation prize. Sebastian will never be exactly who she wants him to be and a real person knows that.

…It's never worth the heartbreak. We need to leave  _now._

"Come on, Larxene," I say.

"Yeah, sure," she replies. It's kind of funny that now, when she's totally wasted, she's more complacent. I don't know why or how that happened, but I know I'll be drawing this scene later. I'll look back on this later and smile, after I'm done being stupidly sentimental.

I must be more tired than I thought. I only really think about stuff like this when I'm tired and I can't control myself at all. "Marluxia, a little help?"

I hear him laugh and push me away, but I know he's just coming around to get Larxene. I'm not even panicking, like I would have just weeks ago.

He lifts her up completely – goddamn, that boy's strong – and jerks his head like  _follow me,_  which I do. I won't even  _think_  about how I'd probably follow him anywhere at this point, because that's a bad train of thought. Also I'm exhausted, and it's a little hard to put one foot in front of the other.

I forgot how exhausting being in crowds is. You're only energized until you stop moving.

I'm pretty sure if I get any closer to Marluxia he'll think I'm trying to make a move on him or something. I have no idea how that would go down, but I'm guessing not very well. I almost want to grope him on purpose, just to see what would happen, but I won't; I'm not  _that_  creepy.

Also I have more self-control than that. I mean, there are so many times I  _haven't_  pressed the red button I should get an award or something.

The door is a welcome sight. I mean, it's not like I haven't seen it since we got here, but just the thought of…I'm glad we're getting out of here. There's only so much fun a person can have before it stops being fun, right? I take a deep breath and I feel a smile pull at my mouth. The air smells much better out here, even with the lingering scent of cigarettes and regurgitated booze clinging to the pavement.

That is fucking  _saying_  something. It's funny how I'm only noticing this now.

"Come on, Larx," he tells her, opening the door of the backseat with one hand. "You've got to duck your head or I can't help you in."

"I don't want to leave yet," she says, kinda huffily. It's cute.

"Deal." He pushes her head down with his hand. I guess being gentle got on his nerves. "We're leaving anyway."

He shuts the door quickly and I get in the passenger seat. It's weird, now that she's falling asleep in the back and Marluxia's sitting next to me. "Where are we going?"

He shrugs and starts the car. "I'm thinking we should either check into a hotel somewhere, or stop for food and coffee. I'm completely worn, and it's a longer drive than I'm comfortable with otherwise."

"What do you want to do?"

"Honestly?" He makes an amused noise in his throat. "I want to go home as soon as possible. I don't like this city – don't tell Larxene, she's proud of where she comes from, but I'd rather slit my own throat than stay here for more than a few hours."

"Then coffee's our best bet," I say. "Will she be okay?"

"She's unsurprisingly resilient. She'll have to sleep it off, but as long as we keep her talking, she won't fall asleep until the ride home, and I doubt she'll be sick tomorrow."

I feel myself smiling. I don't know why I'm smiling so much lately; I mean, they're barely even real smiles. I have nothing to smile about. But they keep coming on their own. Maybe it's like, my body or my subconscious recognizes something that my…heart doesn't. Or is it the other way around? My heart recognizes something I don't?

Whatever. Maybe it doesn't matter. My smiles are not grimaces anymore, at least when I'm around Marluxia. That can be good enough for me.

I see him roll his neck a little and I'm seized with the sudden urge to rub his shoulders. I won't, but I kinda want to. I guess tonight's taken me back farther than anything else has. I remember when all I ever wanted was to make him comfortable, to please him. It's that urge. I'm older now, and maybe not wiser but definitely more able to contain my urges, and I know what he wants. He wants the Naminé with a spine, not the pliant, submissive wimp who was too afraid of being alone to really have a personality.

And maybe I still want to please the people I actually care about, but I can actually give him that. So it all works out.

I am  _acutely_  aware of Larxene's head next to mine. I look over and she's giving Marluxia this awful grin I'll probably have nightmares about. "Where are we going?"

Dude. I just asked that question. Where were you?

"To get coffee."

I blink. "You should get some potassium and vitamin C into your system when we get there, Larxene; it will help you metabolize the alcohol."

Ah, fuck. There goes my mouth, stealing the wrong words from my brain. Out of all the thoughts I have, couldn't it have chosen something a little less…condescending? Everybody knows that. She probably thinks I'm talking down to her or something.

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot," she says. The effect is somewhat lessened by her inability to enunciate.

"You should sit back," Marluxia tells her. He didn't tell me to sit back. Then again, I wasn't drunk. A seatbelt will probably do Larxene a world of good.

She gives us this loud, put-upon sigh and does what he asked. I hear the click of the seatbelt and, guiltily, I put mine on as well. I don't know why I feel guilty. It's not like –

How much time has passed? How long has it been since I heard that…crunch?

I don't think I've ever heard something so horrible. My eyes are closed and already I can feel my head throbbing where it hit the passenger side window and that was the most sickening sound I've ever heard.

If a dinosaur had metal teeth, this is what being chewed up by it would sound – and feel – like. It's only thanks to Marluxia's superior driving skills that I…

Wait.

"Marluxia?"

Why do my lips feel wet? I think I'm drooling. Gross. Also my words sound weird.

I try to open my eyes, but it hurts my head. "Marluxia."

He doesn't answer. Maybe he's too shocked. We don't have clubs or bars in Traverse Town, so seeing somebody speeding out of a parking lot like that…it just doesn't happen. He might be one of the smartest people I've ever known, but he's still sort of sheltered.

"Ugh," Larxene says behind me. "The hell was that for, Marlene?"

He still doesn't answer. I have this…really terrible feeling. I don't want this terrible feeling, but I have it.

I force my eyes open and suddenly I wish I hadn't.

Marluxia's superior driving skills? It's thanks to those that I'm relatively unharmed, at least as far as I know, and Larxene's still talking. It's also 'thanks' to those that he looks like, well, he just got hit by a truck. There's a giant dent in his door, and the window's completely busted. That…must be why the side of my face is stinging.

"Marluxia, wake the fuck up," Larxene says, leaning forward before hissing. She probably got thrown around. But I agree with her sentiments. He needs to wake up. Just open his eyes a little. I close my eyes again because it hurts too much to keep them open.

"C'mon, Marluxia," I say, even though moving my mouth feels weird. I reach out to shake him, but he doesn't move.

It's all fuzzy, like somebody put a thin wool sweater over my head. I'm having trouble concentrating on even his shoulder and I have this feeling in me growing, like panic or something but not. I can't grab hold of it just like I can't really grab hold of him.

"Wake  _up,"_  Larxene demands. I feel kinda bad for her, or at least I think I do. Or I think I would? Isn't it hard to process things when you're drunk? She must be terrified. Goddamn, it's hard to think.

"He's not dead, Naminé," she says. "He's not going to…he said he'd never…I'm dying first, everybody knows that."

The desperation in her voice worries me. I don't want to think about what she's implying. I hear her pressing buttons in the back and her slurred words, "We're in an accident? Somebody hit us, Marly's not moving and you need to get here because you have to make his heart start again."

No, no,  _no._  Larxene's right. He's not. He's  _not._

There's a voice. Telling me to…what? Stay awake? Did I fall asleep? I'm…there's something under me, hard. That's Larxene's voice telling me to open my eyes, I can't leave her alone. Marluxia left us, I can't leave her too. What is she even talking –

Everything is purple. There's somebody talking and I can't breathe and I hate it and everything is purple and I think I can see my dad's face but he's purple. I can't move my arms and I can't breathe. I can move my hand but I can't move my arm because somebody tied me down. I hate the ones who did this and turned everything purple. I can't remember any sign language so I don't know how to tell them something's in my mouth stopping me from getting breath. He's saying something but I can't hear and he's purple. Somebody else is leaning over me too and doing something and there's more room for breathing now but I can't do it and I'm tied down and everything is purple.

There's a guy in a hospital that needs my help but I can't help him. I can breathe now and I can move my arms now but why won't they let me help him? Who is 'they?' Where am I? The world is back to normal. It's not purple anymore and there are no faces.

I  _hate_  the smell of hospital blankets. They remind me of past mistakes and cancer. My head is pounding, but I think that's because it's inordinately bright in here. I'm not really sure why I'm here, but obviously I got injured somehow. Okay, time to take stock of my injuries…god, if I can clear my brain.

My face hurts. I have a giant painful spot on the right side of the back of my head. I can move my toes, but my left hand feels weak. My right hand feels fine – good, I can still finish my…I have a project that needs to be finished. Right.

My tongue hurts really, really bad, and I taste blood. I think I bit it. Why would I bite my tongue hard enough to make the taste linger in my mouth? That's a stupid thing to do.

Larxene is beside me with her head on her arms on the side of my bed, one hand latched onto mine. It reminds me of…of Kairi, and me, and how much I ended up ruining just before she died. "Larxene?"

I sound retarded and my throat hurts. I may be dehydrated. Why would I be…how long have I been here?

Her head pops up and before I even properly register the puffy eyes she's saying, "Took you long enough."

It sounds like something I might say. To make it easier. "How long…did it take?"

"You were out for…god, it was horrible, you…two days, Naminé. You kept us waiting for  _two days."_

 _Us._  That's right, we…that guy T-boned us. But she said  _us,_  which means Marluxia is still alive. "Where is he?"

She gives me a weird look. "He who?"

"Marluxia." It's annoying that it sounded like 'Ma-roo-zha.' I guess I still don't have full control over my mouth yet. Not that I ever did, but at least I was able to enunciate properly.

"Don't  _talk_  about him. You know where he is."

I have that stupid sinky feeling again, but there's no reason, right? I mean, she said  _us._  That means he's waiting too. Maybe he's in another hospital room. That would make sense; I think I'm in the ICU. "What room?"

"You're stupid. Why am I here? You're stupid, you…you almost died too, and you're asking about stupid imaginary things. Can't you just stop?"

Yeah, sinking feeling is no more, I'm completely sunk. Despite what she said, and how I feel right now because of the fuzz in my brain, I'm not completely stupid. I know what she's driving at. I don't like it, but I know.

I can feel tears. I don't want them to be there but I can feel tears, and she's still holding my hand even though she's sort of yelling at me. Some nurse or doctor is probably going to come in here and tell her to be quiet or check on me or something.

"What happened?" I need her to tell me. I need to hear it.

Suddenly she doesn't look mad anymore. She leans down to put her cheek on my hand and that small thing makes me even sadder and I can't stop leaking tears. "In the accident, he…they couldn't revive him. And then you were freaking out, like foaming at the mouth and it was…then you just weren't awake. You were alive and you didn't have any more seizures, but you wouldn't wake up."

There's so much going on in my head right now but I can't really hold onto any of it. I want to ask so many questions and I want to stop crying and I want this to just not be happening. God, why? Why. I'm so angry right now and even though I want to scream at her to stop lying to me, I know she wouldn't lie about this. Maybe about something else, but not about this.

I'm angry because he was  _alive._  He got out of the hospital and he was alive and before we left he was holding me in his arms like a present. Like I was important to him. He still has a restaurant to take care of and he has gardens and we gave him a book he hasn't read yet. He has to be here to do all those things and I'm angry because he's not.

Why did he have to die? Why does  _everyone I love_  have to die? It's like I'm poisonous or something. If you touch me you'll disappear. When is Zexion going to die on me? Larxene should wise up and leave before something happens to her, too. Why did he have to die? It should have been me. I want it to have been me.

I'm the poisonous one. They'd be better off without me.

I know I'm being irrational, but I can't stop feeling this. I can't stop thinking this. Intellectually, I know that my conclusion is impossible – I mean, this is the natural order of things,  _everybody dies –_  but I keep thinking it's me. It  _feels_  like it's me. Like it's my fault this deadly poison,  _reality,_  gets spilled over everybody's sweet little candy hearts.


	27. Carried It All Too Long

 

I am  _so tired._  I don't know if it's because of the accident or because I just can't stop crying, but I've been sleeping...I swear, like twelve or thirteen hours a day.

Larxene is pissed.

I...don't really blame her. I'd be pissed too. I am pissed, and I'm not even...

I missed his funeral. When I found out, I sorta flipped out on her, yelling and throwing things. I guess I scared her because she slapped me again and now she's always mad. I keep acting like I'm so hurt, but she had nobody. Just him. And me, but she's too mad at me to know that.

She's sleeping right now and that's good; she can't be mad at me when she sleeps. She can only look beautiful. I hate when she looks hurt because it just doesn't belong to her. She's above that, or at least she should be. Larxene should never have to feel bad, ever.

But she does. And it's my fault.

I'm going crazy. I feel sick and cooped up all the time, and sure, I'm allowed to be home now that it's been a week since I woke up, but I'm still like this. The hospital smell won't leave me alone and Marluxia still lives in this house, even though he's probably wherever Kairi is.

That is, nonexistent.

I can't go back home. Dad told me I could, like physically could; he practically begged me, but I can't. Not after what happened. Even if I forgive him, even if I accept his apology, I just  _can't._

So I'm here with Larxene, who might actually hate my guts, and Marluxia, who is a ghost. I constantly feel sick because I'm eating again...because I have to make sure Larxene eats and because the doctor said I would have been a little better off had I not been so small – and that if I don't gain weight, someone will have to step in forcefully.

And for Marluxia. I can feel his disapproving eyes on me. I'm not pretty enough, I'm too skinny.

I wish it had been me. I can barely take care of myself as it is.

"Naminé?"

I recognize that tone. She's still half asleep. She doesn't realize what happened yet. She doesn't hate me yet, but she will. She just needs to open her eyes a little.

"Yes?"

"Why are you just sitting there? Shouldn't you be doing something elsewhere?"

I have no idea what she's talking about, but I know what she means. She doesn't want me around. I don't want me around either. I don't know why she's keeping me, even though she's so mad at me, but I'm grateful to even be in her general vicinity. And ashamed, but at least like this I know she's alive. I've never been so afraid of losing someone.

"I...yes," I say. There isn't anything else I  _can_  say, is there? I'm here if she wants me. She just...doesn't. I won't force myself on her.

I gather up my pencils, which I haven't actually used since I got out of the hospital – I figure I'll go to the kitchen. I have this irrational urge to throw the pointy ones in her pretty face, though. She makes me sleep beside her every night, she hates me during the day, and...I can't ask. I can't protest. I'm too fucked up right now.

So I just put them in my cargo pocket. I might end up burning these, Axel style, along with every other pair of cargo pants I own. I already got rid of the ones I was wearing on that day...

God, I spent five days wishing I could think properly. Now that the concussion isn't fuzzing my thoughts anymore, I wish I could stop thinking. Everything reminds me of him. Of them. Of how goddamn  _toxic_  I am.

I want to put the kettle on, but that reminds me of him too. I'm eating from his kitchen, throwing up in his bathroom, sleeping in his bedroom, utterly failing to comfort his best friend...I can't touch that little shaped lump of stainless steel. It's irrational, but I  _can't._

I sit down in the living room and put my head in my hands. Fuck this, I'm going back to sleep. On the couch. I can't be awake when the only things I can think about are making me cry.

She's watching me. Even though my eyes are closed, I can feel it. My head and throat are thick and harsh and I really don't want to wake up, but she's watching me. That means she needs something from me.

What if I just lie here? What if I refuse to move? It would make her mad, but that's nothing new. Maybe she'll hit me. I deserve it. Maybe she'll kill me. At this point, I'd probably enjoy it. Welcome it. She'd be my angel or mercy or whatever.

Still I don't open my eyes. I just can't do it. It's impossible; my eyelids are too thick and heavy. My body is made of warm stones. My brain is sloppy.

I just...want it all to go away.

"I know you're awake," she tells me.

"You should know I don't want to be," I shoot back. My voice still sounds kinda bad; I had breathing tubes down my throat and my vocal cords are kinda shot.

Also I'm tired.

"And  _you_  should know I'm in an  _extremely_  foul mood."

Why does she blame me for this? It feels like my fault, and I get that I deserve it, but what's going through her head? And why is she keeping me around? Now I'm mad.

I open my eyes and drag myself to a sitting position. "Why?"

"You ruined  _everything,"_  she tells me. Well, it's more like she's exploding. "It was just Marluxia and me here, and then  _you_  came back. Like I hadn't heard enough about you! And I saw you and you weren't anything special. You were just a little girl, so why was he even hesitant to see you again?"

I have a terrible feeling about this. "What?"

She scoffs. "Oh, what? Isn't that you being coy? Isn't that so cute." She stands and sorta stamps her foot a little. "I get it, you trapped him somehow and he was all in love with you or whatever. Whatever. Couldn't you have just stayed away? It would have been fine. We would have been so much better off without you."

I want to say something, or do something – anything – to get her to shut up. I don't want to hear it. I stand up and open my mouth, but she just continues. "I tried to push you away, to...terrorize you. You left him to rot; he was  _my_  best friend. You gave him up, you didn't deserve him, so I tried to get you to leave, but he was right. You get under everybody's skin and it was impossible to resist. And you're laughing now, aren't you? Because even though I hate your stupid ass, I  _can't live without you anymore._  That's what you're best at, right? Ruining lives?"

I know I'm shaking, but now it's from anger. "You actually think I'm enjoying this? You actually think I didn't care? Fuck you, Larxene. When he d – after the accident, I couldn't even...it should have been me. You're right, I do ruin things. It's not intentional, but I do. So, what, are you going to yell at me more? Hit me?"

"I'm thinking about it," she says darkly.

I spread out my arms. "Fine, hit me. Do it. I deserve it, don't I? Isn't it true? Don't I deserve to be punished? Go on, do it. Hit me."

She makes a disgusted face at me. "You're still mocking me? God, it's like-"

"Do it," I yell, but my vocal cords make it sound like a whine. I don't care how it sounds. I need her to hit me. I need her to make it better. "Hit me, you cowardly bitch!"

I've never felt something so...relieving. The feel of her hand on my face, of my body hitting the floor, is like kisses. I need her to do it again, so I stand up and I laugh at her. "Is that it?"

I feel even better this time. I'm going to stand up but now she's on me, making me sting. I don't want to do anything that will make her stop, so I'm just going to lie here. Maybe she'll kill me. I hope she does.

But now she's suddenly stopped. I'm kind of...disappointed. I've fucked up so many things, I've made so many stupid mistakes...I'm alive when I shouldn't be and other people deserve to be alive and happy without me.

If Sora were here, he'd be appalled at what's happening. I would have to pretend for him so he wouldn't be hurt. But he's another mistake I made – if I had given Sora and Riku a reason to stay, they wouldn't have been on that train.

"I hate you," she whispers, leaning down into my neck.

"I hate me too," I reply. I wish that was just a joke, or something to placate her, but it isn't. And I'm tired of pretending it isn't true.

I feel her lips on me, where she was breathing, and again. It makes me go rigid. I want this, but I don't want her to want it. I don't want her to want to enjoy someone who can't be enjoyed.

Then her lips are on mine, and her teeth and – I can taste blood again. My blood. My lip is going to hurt later but I don't care. I'm less scared when she's hurting me.

"It's because I love you." Her words are almost nonexistent against my mouth and I know she's lying, but I won't call her on it. Not today.

"I love you too," I try to say, but she bites me again before I can. It's a good thing, too; I wouldn't have meant it. I don't love her. But that doesn't mean anything. Not now that she needs me. I need her, too.

She's the only one who can make things right.


	28. Child Be Still

 

The air is damp – it was raining again earlier, but right now there's a lull in the summer storm – and I'm really cold, even though it's summer. Zexion told me it's because I'm too skinny, and I'm inclined to believe him because I trust him. Even if he totally got engaged to Olette without telling me. He did it because there's actual chemistry there – I haven't seen it, but again, I trust him – and because he knows I can't be happy without Larxene, even though our relationship (whatever it is) is so toxic.

In retrospect, it was a terrible idea to goad Larxene into hitting me. After the adrenaline wore off, I felt like I'd been hit by another truck, which is probably an inappropriate analogy to use but also very accurate. She hasn't done it again, and I'm only half-thankful for that. I still feel like she should…

But I know that's the unhealthy part of me, the guilt talking. I also know that it's  _not_  my fault. It would be arrogant to think it is; I'm not some kind of god, and I don't dictate life or destiny or what have you. I just… _want_  it to be my fault. Because if it is, then there's somebody to blame, somebody to punish. And if I'm such a bad, poisonous person, nobody will want to come near me, which would mean I'd never have to lose another person ever again.

Tennyson was retarded. It isn't better to have loved and lost. When you're alone, you don't know what you're missing.

"I've been thinking about what she said," I tell the headstone. "I know you can't hear me, so this is really for my own peace of mind…but I wish I could ask you if I ruined your life."

I kneel down, sorta wincing in pain, and I know my knees are going to be muddy but I feel like I need to be closer to him. I don't actually think he's here, listening, but it's not for him. It's for me. Isn't that why we have funerals? There's no point in caring what happens to your body after you die, but the people you leave behind need closure.

On the space in front of the stone, I put a little bundle of bay leaves and chamomile – for love and protection. Not that I think he'll be the victim of a grave robbing, but it's sort of a personal thing. He gave me one of these about three months after we started hanging out together. Told me it would keep that asshole Jim off my case. It was really Marluxia, who threatened to cut off his dick and make him choke on it if he even looked at me funny again, but it…was the thought that counted.

I can feel myself smiling. "I don't think I did. You were…really successful without me. Larxene told me you loved me. I probably loved you too, if I even know how. I don't know if I can feel enough to actually love someone. Lately it just seems like I'm completely useless. I mean, it's not just lately. But now it feels like that's  _all_  there is. At least before, I could make jokes in my head and distance myself by being a bitch, but I can't do it anymore."

I pat the ground a little. "I hit my head really hard, you know. Maybe it made me a little stupid, which is why I can't think my way out of feeling so often. Or maybe it got rid of some block. Or maybe I'm just reading into it too much; feelings have to do with the chemicals in your brain, but you don't have to be stupid to feel. You…don't even have to be stupid to feel stupid. You told me that once. I didn't believe you then, but now I do. I don't think…I don't think I'll be able to miss you. You also told me you'd rather die in a huge freak accident than as a boring old man. I guess I agree with the sentiment; you'd be a really boring old man."

My smile slips off my face. "But in all seriousness…I really don't think I'll ever let myself imagine what it would be like if you came back to life. I might miss you, in the sense that I never got to do or say half the things that were in my head, but I refuse to remember you with sadness. You were one of the best things that ever happened to me. Even if I didn't deserve you. Even if I didn't always appreciate you. I do now."

I'm about to stand up when I feel Larxene's hand on my shoulder. I know it's Larxene because she's saying, "I figured you'd be here."

"Why?"

"Because there's nowhere else you'd go."

Ouch. It's true, though. Everywhere is saturated in memories, and I don't really want to go anywhere anyway. Not here. I don't even really want to go back home, to Twilight Town. I let her pick me up by my arm and follow her out of the cemetery. It's not like I have to say goodbye; he wouldn't hear me and it would hurt. Closure sometimes hurts just as much as leaving things open-ended.

I'm not delusional. I know he's not coming back, just like Sora and Riku aren't coming back. Just like Kairi never came back. It just…feels better, not saying goodbye.

Also she's going too fast for me to turn around without annoying her. I don't think she likes it here, and I way don't blame her.

I get into the passenger side of her van and she starts driving – the wrong way. The only things we could possibly be heading for – practically everything is closed on Sunday – are Burger King…and my dad's house.

Fuck.

"Um…"

"Your stuff is in the back," she tells me. "I got it all. Your artwork was virtually untouched, so…don't worry about your project."

"I can't go back there," I say, almost desperately. I should be able to, and maybe it's my own stupid pride keeping me away, but…it's true. I can't.

"Well, you can't stay at – the house," she replies. "I can't stay here. I have to get out of here."

I look at my hands. "Like…for a road trip, or…a permanent move?"

Larxene replies, "I mean I need out. For good. But I guess I could do a road trip first." She looks at me peripherally and I know what's coming next. I also know the answer is yes when she asks, "Are you coming?"

"Yeah...I told Amber at the studio I won't be back for another month," I tell her. After a moment, I add, "You can come with me, if you want...you'd have a job, and a place to stay if you wanted it."

"A  _job?"_

I can't fault her skepticism. "I've been thinking about hiring another photographer."

I'm quite sure she wasn't made to smile that hard, but she's pretending, and really, I am too. I'm talking about business when I'd rather throw myself into her arms and bawl. It's us passing off as normal.

"Well…" She looks at me and I can't read her expression. I'm not sure I want to, anyway. "It's better than the alternative. We'll figure it out."

I like that she said  _we._  It's stupid to like it, but then, I'm stupid. I've always been stupid in the way that has nothing to do with books or science and everything to do with how you react to things. I guess I never really thought about the difference before.

"You're always welcome," I tell her, and I mean it. I shouldn't. But I do.

She isn't speaking. But now we're at my dad's and she says, "Whatever. If you're coming, you'd better hurry, because I'm leaving in no more than ten minutes."

"It won't even take me that long," I tell her, and then I get out and enter. I don't want to be here, but I don't have to be. It's just temporary. So I can really leave.

Suddenly my head is…fuzzy, kinda. Vacant. I guess I want to be here even less than I originally thought. But I can do this. I  _have_  to be able to get through this.

Separate. Concentrate.

I walk up the stairs.

It pretty much takes me no time to get my shit together. I stop in my dad's study, and I can sorta hear myself telling him what's going on, and I can sorta hear him saying something, but I just nod and hope it was a question or a blessing. I sorta feel bad for leaving him again, but...no, actually, I don't feel bad. I don't feel bad at all.

It's now pretty much all a blur, even when I throw my stuff in her big van, and I'm glad she isn't talking to me. She looks just as vacant as I feel. When she starts driving I close my eyes and try to pretend it's Marluxia driving, but it doesn't work.

I open my eyes again and resign myself to coming back. I know I can't keep my mental distance for long anymore, and maybe…maybe that's a good thing.

She's biting her lip a little. I don't actually know how long I've been looking at her, but it must have been a while because we're already out of Spaghetti Highway. Fuck, where am I?

"Sorry," I say, even though there's absolutely no reason for me to do so.

"Whatever," she says. I notice she says that a lot. Now we're both silent and it's a little sad, in the way that death is sad.

I'm going to check out again.

Hollow Bastion looks different in the morning light. Even fuzzy like this, through eyes that have spent too long looking and not seeing, it looks…pretty. I can sort of see why Larxene would be proud of coming from here. But she probably isn't anymore.

Or maybe that's just me projecting. I love and hate by association, I guess. Sometimes.

We pass the site of the accident, and it looks perfect. Like nothing happened there at all. It's a bizarre form of normalcy that makes me laugh suddenly. Yeah, suddenly I'm laughing so hard my sides hurt and maybe I'm crying, but I'm pretty sure this is laughter. I can hear Larxene doing the same thing.

She pulls over and we sit there on the side of the road laughing our guts out, and the weird thing is that it feels right. Like this is what we're supposed to be doing. Why grieve, when there's so much out there that's amusing? For me, it's like this sudden  _revelation._  I don't have to grieve. Losing people...it happens. It will keep happening. I can't stop it, no matter how hard I try, so I should just stop trying at all. I'll be able to laugh more, that's for fucking sure.

It seems like we stop laughing at the same time, but I think laughter is contagious and we're just not feeding off each other anymore. I guess it's the same thing. I get sorta quiet, but the peaceful kind of quiet – and she says, "Music?"

It's such a random question, but I agree anyway because the world would be better if there was a soundtrack, wouldn't it? At least if there's music, there will be something external to focus on.

Larxene pushes the power button and rolls down the windows and starts driving again. I feel myself smiling  _for real_  through my terrible singing, even if I'm not sure why, and the song on the radio is somehow perfect despite our mood. Or maybe because of it.

And it's kinda funny, in the way that death is funny. Everything totally fell apart and I've exhausted myself feeling shitty, and I may never regain full control over my left arm because of that slight brain damage from the accident – but I'm here in the passenger seat of her beat-up van, a mattress in the back and the wind on my face. I'm watching the road and we're singing  _Bohemian Rhapsody_  at the top of our lungs and I'm pretty sure I've never been this free in my entire life.


End file.
